The Heart Asks It's Pleasure First
by scaramouche97
Summary: This story begins just after Margaret's father has died. With no one showing her any sympathy, what will happen when Mr Thornton is the only person to treat her with genuine kindness?
1. Chapter 1

The story begins just after Maragret's father dies. With no one showing her any sympathy, what will happen when Mr Thornton is the only person to be genuinely kind to her?

* * *

"Miss Margaret? Your aunt has arrived. She's waiting downstairs."

Dixon waited for the tiny nod Margaret gave her in acknowledgement before bustling out of the room. Margaret sat for a moment, trying to find the courage to face her aunt, before rising from her chair and listlessly making her way down to the sitting room. There, her aunt was stood staring disdainfully out the window at the sooty street behind the grimy glass.

"Aunt."

"Ah, Margaret. It is good to see you, my dear girl. Now come, we have much to do before we leave for London, and we need to be on the train as soon as we can manage."

"You are taking me to London?"

Whilst Margaret knew that her aunt would come and get her once the news was known, there was some part of her that hadn't really believed she would have to leave Milton. She was so used to her independence that it was naturally galling to be taken away, back to somewhere she would be forced into a routine she had no say in, a place where there were no reminders of the life she had grown to love. But her aunt was her closest relative. As she was still not of age, she had no choice but to comply, no matter how hard she wished to fight. As it was, she could not find the energy to argue, not so soon, when the grief was still so fresh, and she was the only one in the household to remember her father fondly.

"Of course I am taking you to London, Margaret, I couldn't possibly leave you here in this dirty place. Why if it were your father who had died before your mother I would have had you both brought to London immediately. But no matter, what's done is done, and I shall simply remove you from here as soon as possible. It is what your mother would have wanted after all. Oh, my poor sister!" She lamented, "Buried here all alone! Why, he did not even have the courtesy to die where he could remain with her. He, in Oxford, a place he loved, among friends, while she is abandoned in this savage place! How you must have suffered here, Margaret. Indeed, you are looking remarkably pale, perhaps you should rest while I see to the arrangements."

Margaret had indeed turned pale; however, it was not from suffering in Milton but rather the shock of hearing her aunt abuse her beloved father so brutally to her face. She knew her aunt and father had struggled to get along, but to hold such anger, to be able to insult him in front of his bereaved daughter, it was too much! Margaret was glad to escape back to her room. Soon though, she was forced to flee once more, as Dixon had been directed to see to her clothes and had been emboldened by Mrs Shaw's presence, enough so that she was quite happy scorning her father and Milton in her presence.

Hidden away in her father's study, Margaret refused to allow herself to cry over her circumstances. While she had cried tears for her father only that morning, now she felt that any tears would be shed only about the freedom she was about to lose and would not allow herself to wallow in such selfish thoughts. Not when her aunt had come all the way from London to offer her protection, to take her into her household with no thought of recompense.

The strain of holding back such riotous emotion exhausted her, so much so that she could offer no arguments when her aunt summoned her for tea and spoke of leaving immediately after a rather late lunch. It was only after she was somewhat irked by a rather forward comment from Dixon that she was finally able to assert herself.

"Aunt we cannot go straight after lunch. I must take leave of my friends."

"Oh Margaret, what kind of friends can you possibly have made in a place like this? How your father could have thought to bring you this dreadful place, I will never know. Letting you associate with tradesmen! It is a degradation."

With Dixon nodding her head emphatically from where she was serving tea, Mrs Shaw must have seen Margaret's face harden, for she continued in a far more conciliatory tone.

"Come now, my dear, I am sure there is no need to see these people, they cannot expect you to go visiting when you are in mourning. No, it is much better to leave immediately. You can write to them to explain, they cannot believe we would deign to visit them under such circumstances."

"Indeed," Dixon piped up from her corner, "you are much too good for them miss, you shouldn't lower yourself by giving them you notice."

Margaret could barely contain her annoyance at such a speech. Dixon, a servant herself no less, thinking herself above the leading manufacturer of the city, merely by the virtue of being from the south! Clearly Dixon had been given too much consequence, and Margaret, unwilling and dependent as she was, had never challenged her. At that moment, she felt a surge of anger, at Dixon, at her mother for undermining her authority in the case of Dixon, at her circumstances, and could not stop the rebuke that rolled from her tongue to the stubborn servant.

"Dixon! I will not have you denigrate my friends. Do you not remember the kindness Mr Thornton showed us when mother was ill? Do you not remember the service Mrs Thornton rendered us? Remember your position Dixon. I will not hear you abuse the goodness we have been shown here. Mr Thornton has done more for us than you will ever know."

Dixon seemed taken aback by her outburst, but it did not stop her from arguing her point.

"He was your father's friend, miss. Pardon me for saying but he never did anything good for us. It was his fault we ended up here in the dreadful place. If he hadn't found this house, we could be settled elsewhere."

"I do not pardon you, Dixon, for you are wrong and you forget yourself. Your wilful ignorance in the affairs of this house is inexcusable. I will not hear another word spoken against Mr Thornton, am I understood?"

Dixon appeared to wish to disagree but held her tongue and gave a grudging nod.

Margaret looked to her aunt to see if she would insist on her original plan, but it seemed as if he were too shocked at Margaret's behaviour to take the issue further. Her stare shamed Margaret back into the meek manner she had had since the news of her father had been received, and she quietly left the room and once again took refuge in her father's study.

There, she could not help but reflect on the wonderful times she had had in that room. Her father's very essence was encapsulated within those walls, and she hated the thought of losing the place he closest to her. She knew her aunt would not let her keep all the books, they covered nearly all four walls after all, but she dearly hoped to keep his favourites at least. She could not bear the thought that she would have to part with them, that some unknown reader may not appreciate their value like she could, and resolved to do her best to send them where they would be wanted. Surely Mr Bell could help her. He would know people who would understand what her father felt for those books. Yes, she would ask Mr Bell.

Some time later, an irate Dixon fetched her to take some food, and the subject of visiting was once again raised with her aunt.

"Margaret, if these people truly are you friends, they will understand if you leave for London now."

"I will not do them the discourtesy of taking myself off without so much as a by your leave! If you were leaving somewhere, perhaps forever, would you not tell your friends in person?"

"Margaret that would be different entirely."

"No it would not. I do not judge my friends for their station in life. I would appreciate it if you would do the same."

"Well in any case we simply will not have time. If we are to be in London tonight, we must leave soon."

"Very well. I will go alone. You may oversee Dixon in the packing."

"You cannot go alone!"

"I can and I shall. If you do not wish to come, then I will meet you at the station."

Her aunt could clearly see that nothing she said would change her mind. Sighing, she finally capitulated to Margaret's wish.

"Very well Margaret. We will visit your friends. But then we must leave for London."

"Thank you, Aunt."

Margaret left the room to fetch her things, not wanting to give Dixon a reason to delay them, but found upon reaching her bed chamber that her energy had deserted her. She sat heavily on her bed. The stress of the morning, combined with sleepless nights and days of misery, settled over her in a lethargic blanket that she could not throw off. Only the thought of their impending visit to the Thornton's forced her to move, tugging on her coat and bonnet, before descending the stairs once more.

Upon passing her father's study an impulse to give Mr Thornton something to remember him by (and by extension her) seized her, and she took the book of Plato she watched them debate over many evenings. Perhaps she was viewing the past through rose coloured lenses, but she truly could not think of a time she felt more welcome in her father's life as when he included her in his lessons with Mr Thornton. While they may have argued more often than not, Margaret was grateful that Mr Thornton allowed her to express herself, listening respectfully, even as she spoke of her naïve view of the world. She could not leave without somehow saying thank you – however indirectly it might have to be – and so Father's Plato would go to Mr Thornton, while she prayed he could eventually be brought to think well of her.

Continuing down the stairs she came to the door where her aunt was waiting, having already somehow secured a cab, and boarded the waiting vehicle with instructions to take them to Marlborough Mills. The journey there was filled with awkward silence. Her aunt was clearly disgruntled about being forced to attend to people she believed below her, but Margaret put it from her mind. She had no ability to sooth injured feelings of superiority when she was hurting herself. Be that as it may, she was relieved when they finally pulled up outside the mill and she could escape thick tension inside the carriage.

While she had pushed hard to visit Mrs Thornton to take her leave, she was still apprehensive when thinking of that lady's terse manner. She was uncertain if she could keep her composure if she began to censure her again, but she hoped that Mrs Thornton would be feeling some sympathy for and would leave off any lectures. Following a servant through the house, they came to the living room where Mrs Thornton was seated with her mending. She placed her sewing in a basket next to her and rose to greet them in her usual clipped way.

"Miss Hale. I did not expect to see you."

"Yes. I am sorry for calling unannounced. This is my aunt, Mrs Shaw. She is taking me back to London. Aunt, this is Mrs Thornton. She was a great support to mother when she was ill."

After a brief nod of acknowledgement to her aunt – who was clearly viewing her surroundings with an air of distaste – Mrs Thornton turned to Margaret.

"I was sorry to hear of your father, Miss Hale. He was a good man."

Margaret forced herself to hold back tears that threatened at hearing the first kindly words for her father since his passing.

"Thank you, Mrs Thornton. It means more than you can know to hear you say that."

Her voice trembled on those last words, but she kept her composure and allowed her aunt to take over the conversation.

"Mrs Shaw, you are from London?"

"Yes, Mrs Thornton. Harley Street has been my home for many years. You can probably imagine how eager we are to have Margaret back with us."

Margaret could hardly meet Mrs Thornton's eye when she looked at her. Her aunt's manner was condescending, like she had deigned to gift her presence in Mrs Thornton's home. Mrs Thornton could hardly be unaware and was unlikely to be endeared to her any further with such badly behaved relatives. It threw her behaviour when she first arrived in Milton into a harsh light, and her shame made it so that she almost missed the comment Mrs Thornton directed at her.

"I had not realised you lived in London, Miss Hale. The way you spoke of your home made me think you had always been there."

"I have lived in London during the season since I was nine. I spent my summers in Helstone."

"I see."

The conversation lapsed into an uncomfortable silence, broken only by the entrance of Mr Thornton. He looked surprised to see her, before he schooled his face into a blank expression.

"Ah, John. Miss Hale has come to take her leave of us. She is leaving for London."

Mr Thornton turned to her.

"You are leaving?"

"I must Mr Thornton." She scarcely whispered her response. He sent a glance to his mother, who suddenly found she needed to enquire of a great many things with her aunt, but Margaret could not attend their conversation. Mr Thornton moved closer to her.

"I am sorry about your father, Miss Hale. I will miss him greatly, he was a good friend to me."

Tears threatened again at his words, but she choked out her thanks and tried to find the courage to give him father's Plato. Before she could however, he began speaking quietly.

"How are you, Miss Hale? I know how the loss of a father can affect you, but I cannot imagine how you must feel. This year has not been good to you."

His words finally unlocked the dam building behind her eyes. She could do nothing but stare at him while forcing down sobs as tears streamed down her face. His eyes widened as her self-control shattered and he seemed to reach out instinctually to take her hand. He pulled back upon contact however, before calling out to where his mother had drifted to during their conversation.

"Mother, will you excuse us for a moment? I have a book in my study I wished to show Mr Hale and I would like Miss Hale to see it. I think she would appreciate a chance to see if before she leaves."

Margaret could not see her response, but Mr Thornton leaned down and whispered to her, so she assumed it was acquiescence.

"Miss Hale, come with me." He led her out of the sitting room and into a comfortable looking study down the hall. He had her sit on a small couch in front of a fireplace and propped his elbow on the mantlepiece above it. She was still trying to contain her blubbering when he spoke.

"Forgive me for taking you away like that, Miss Hale, but I thought you might prefer a few moments of privacy. I can leave if you would prefer to be alone, but I would not leave you if you do not desire it."

She could not reply to his earnest stare, focused as she was on not sinking down on the couch to weep, and so let out a garbled cry in an attempt to make him stay. She gasped for breath to speak to him, but doing so allowed the sobs to take hold, and she could do nothing but shake from the force of them. She noticed when he came and sat next to her, close enough that she brushed against him as she rocked back and forth under the pressure of her grief. She was almost shocked into silence when an arm encircled her shoulders, but the tenderness of his embrace only served to remind her of the lack of comfort she had been offered by those closest to her, and her sobs were renewed, only this time into the wool of Mr Thornton's coat.

It took some time for her sobs to subside, but when they did, she could not immediately pull away. The security she felt, safely ensconced within his arms, held an allure she hardly knew what to do with. At some point she had reached out and now had his lapel in a fierce grasp. She could not find the strength to let go, and it seemed that Mr Thornton was perfectly happy to stay where he was, as he had started to rub her back in a comforting motion that had her – despite her own mortification – relaxing even further against him, to the point he was practically holding her up. She had to forcefully stop herself nuzzling even closer into his shoulder, something she used to do when her father held her as a child, and remind herself that this was a man who rightfully disliked her, no matter his current actions.

Eventually though, she knew she must move. She pulled away, allowing Mr Thornton his arm back. A handkerchief was pressed into her hand, and she took it gratefully to wipe away the evidence of tears on her cheeks. After sitting back, she forced herself to meet Mr Thornton's gaze and the compassion she found in his eyes almost had her weeping again.

"Miss Hale? Are you feeling better?"

She looked away.

"I am sorry, Mr Thornton. I never meant to make such a display of myself. It's just…It's just..." She looked back up at him and found no well-deserved censure in his face and so decided to share her sorrows with him. "It's just that ever since I heard the news of my father, you are the first person to show me any genuine kindness. My aunt is too busy trying to take me to London and Dixon has not hidden her feelings about my father at all. She never liked him, or Milton, but now she seems to have found the courage to share it most forcefully."

Thornton's face hardened as she spoke, turning down into the frown he wore whenever she crossed his path. She consoled herself that this time it was directed at someone else and felt somewhat gladdened at the thought of him frowning for her instead of at her, regardless of how long it lasted.

"Your aunt has not been a comfort to you then?"

"No. It pains me to be so harsh, but she has had no thought for me. Only how she can leave Milton as soon as possible. I understand that it is what she thinks is best for me, but she refuses to listen to me."

"I am sorry to hear that. Now, more than ever you need someone to support you."

She could only sniffle in response.

"You will be leaving soon?"

She nodded.

"You will be missed here."

In that moment Margaret could imagine they were good friends, and that he would truly miss her. But surely even he could not really miss her after the way she had behaved. He seemed so bitter the last time he visited her father, she could hardly understand why he was being so kind to her. No, he probably meant Higgins and the children. She would not be allowed to go and see them before she left. Her eyes watered once again, and he looked at her with concern.

"Miss Hale?" He reached out slowly, as if she would shy away, and took her hand, squeezing gently as she swiped at her eyes with his handkerchief. "Will you be alright?"

Margaret gasped out a harsh laugh. "How can I be? I have lost everything I care about. My parents are gone, the closest family I have hate this place, a place where I'm leaving all my friends. How am I supposed to be happy in London? I have no independence, no purpose. How can I possibly live with no meaningful distractions?"

His gaze was pitying.

"I don't know."

"Neither do I."

They sat in silence for a few moments. Margaret was distracted by Mr Thornton's thumb stroking in a seemingly thoughtless manner across her knuckles, and her mind rushed back to the last time she had been held in his arms. The riots and events that followed were burned into her memory, and she could only regret the way she had treated him. In a moment of sudden madness, she realised she could not leave without explaining her brother's presence during her mother's final days. She seized his hand tightly in hers.

"Mr Thornton," he looked at her in surprise, "please, I must tell you about that night at the station."

She watched as his face closed off at her words, but he did not pull away from her, and gave a brief nod to her to continue.

"I know you think badly of me." Her voice wavered. "And I can not blame you, but I assure you it was not what you think."

"What should I think then?"

His answer was terse, but she would not allow it to affect her. He had every right to be short with her, but the hand still holding hers lent her the courage she needed to continue.

"That man was m- "

A sharp knock on the door startled them both as Mrs Thornton walked in. She eyed their joined hands with a raised eyebrow, but Margaret could not bring herself to let go.

"Mother-"

"John you have been in here far too long. Miss Hale must return to her aunt."

"Mother, Miss Hale was about to explain her actions at the station."

It was clear to Margaret that Mrs Thornton was displeased by the reminder, and she turned to Margaret with a grim look.

"I'm afraid we simply do not have time for your tales, Miss Hale."

"Mother-"

"I understand, Mrs Thornton." She barely whispered her response and could not meet her eye as she raised herself wearily from her seat. "I am sorry for the imposition my family has caused you."

She turned to leave but was stopped by Mr Thornton's hand on her arm.

"No, wait. Mother, please allow Miss Hale to explain. It can surely do no harm."

"No harm? John, have you forgotten her behaviour? How she treated you?"

"Mother, stop. Miss Hale does not need to hear this now. You have remonstrated with her once before. Allow her to explain."

"Even if I wished to, I am only here to fetch you both. Fanny has arrived, and Mrs Shaw is growing impatient."

Margaret could feel her eyes growing moist at the helplessness of her situation. She glanced up at Mr Thornton and watched as he took in her miserable visage and turned with an urgency back to his mother.

"Mother, let her explain."

Mrs Thornton sighed. "John we really do not have time."

Mr Thornton stared at his mother, and even to Margaret's unfamiliar eyes, it was obvious he was desperately trying to convince her to change her mind with a look alone…and to Margaret's astonishment, it seemed to be working. Mrs Thornton softened slightly and turned to her.

"There is no time. But you may write to me, knowing that John will be told what you have to say."

Thankfulness surged within her and she could hardly contain her response.

"Oh, thank you, Mrs Thornton, I am so grateful."

"Yes, well, it still remains to be seen if-"

"Mother." Mr Thornton cut her off rather forcefully, but Margaret well understood her meaning. She would receive no forgiveness from Mrs Thornton without a good reason, but she was too glad for the opportunity to attempt to give one to feel disheartened.

"Your aunt is waiting, Miss Hale." And with that Mrs Thornton strode from the room.

Margaret tried to follow but was once again stopped by Mr Thornton.

"Miss Hale."

She turned to find him staring at her but could not decipher the look in his eyes. Finally, he seemed to come to some sort of decision and moved towards her.

"I do not want to think badly of you, Miss Hale. In truth, I have found it impossible to hate you, despite what you think."

Margaret was completely lost for words at his confession and could only follow numbly as he led her back to the parlour.

Upon reaching the room she found her aunt in conversation with Fanny Watson. Or rather, she found her aunt being bombarded by questions, with scarcely time to answer before Fanny found something else to ask. When her aunt spotted her, she insisted on taking their leave, and Margaret could do nothing but oblige and make her goodbyes to Mrs Thornton and Fanny.

"I am sorry to have missed you on this visit, Mrs Watson. Should you ever visit London I would be happy to receive you at Harley Street. I hope you have settled well into your new home."

"I have, Miss Hale. It's a shame you have never been able to visit, I've finished the walls with a lovely Indian paper that-"

"Fanny, Miss Hale does not have the time to listen your prattle about wallpapers."

Fanny's lips pursed but she nodded and moved to Mrs Shaw to allow her to take her leave. Mrs Thornton merely inclined her head to Margaret and followed Fanny across the room.

Facing Mr Thornton once again, she finally found the courage to present him with her Father's book. He smiled at it, and then at her (it almost made her giddy), before thanking her profusely.

"I shall truly treasure this, Miss Hale. I am honoured you thought of me to have it."

"I believe you are the only person who can appreciate it as much as he did. Please do not forget him. Or her. I do not want to leave her here alone."

"I shall visit her grave when I can, Miss Hale. Never fear, they will both be remembered fondly here."

"Thank you, Mr Thornton." She whispered. "It does my heart good to hear that. And please know, I would do anything to earn your good opinion again."

He watched her again with unreadable eyes, before nodding and turning to her aunt.

"It was a pleasure to meet you, Mrs Shaw. Please allow me to escort you to your carriage."

Mrs Shaw nodded regally, as if it were her due, but conveniently did not see Mr Thornton's proffered arm. Margaret's face burned with shame but felt she reassured by his amused expression when he offered his arm to her instead.

"She really does dislike Milton doesn't she?" He murmured to her. "Is she afraid I will not wash off?"

Margaret had to quieten a giggle at his words. Even though she still felt appalled at her aunt's manner, Mr Thornton's clear amusement at the situation served to calm her agitation, and she was able smile up at him as he led her down the stairs at the front of the house. She was surprised that he was not offended at Mrs Shaw's treatment of him (he certainly had never been quiet in his defence of his town and way of life in the past) but suspected he did not wish to add to her burdens.

"If you do not wash off, at least I can say I have not left Milton behind completely."

His smile widened, and he reached over to squeeze the hand gripping his arm. By this time, they had reached the waiting cab and watched as Mrs Shaw climbed aboard herself.

Margaret sighed and forced herself to release Mr Thornton's arm. He faced her, and after a moment's deliberation offered his hand. Once her hand was within his grasp he made no effort to shake it, but stared at it intently, before shocking her by turning it and bowing over it. She looked at him in wonder as he rose and gave her a gentle smile.

"We cannot have you forgetting the ways of the south now you are to live there again."

Margaret would not allow tears to fall at his words but instead clasped his hand tighter and shook it firmly.

"And I shall certainly not forget the ways of the North, no matter how long I am away."

Mr Thornton gazed at her with an expression full of sadness. She squeezed his hand.

"Come now, Mr Thornton. I am certain we shall meet again. Indeed, I am counting on it most assuredly."

He gave her a sad smile, but they were both distracted by her aunt calling for her to enter the carriage. He helped her in, said goodbye, and shut the door. The carriage pulled away and she could not stop herself turning to get one last glimpse of him. He was stood at the steps watching them depart but raised his hand when he saw her peering through the window. She did not have time to wave back before they turned out of sight and she left behind a piece of herself she never knew could exist before she met Mr Thornton.

Within an hour they were sat on the train to London, and Margaret watched wistfully as the distant chimneys faded from view as she settled herself down for the long journey ahead.

* * *

A/N: This is my first attempt at writing anything at all. Please let me know what you think! I can't promise an update schedule (i've just started a new job so i'm busy busy busy!) but I'm going to try and have one chapter a month out.

I hope you enjoy!


	2. Chapter 2

Thank you for all you kind reviews! I hope you all enjoy this next installment!

* * *

_Harley Street_

_Mrs Thornton,_

_Please accept my sincere thanks for the opportunity you have given me to explain the events surrounding my Mother's death. At the time I was very dismissive of you and I am extremely sorry for my words, but I hope my explanation helps you understand my rudeness, even if you cannot forgive my actions. _

_For you see, the man at the station is my brother. His name is Frederick, he joined the navy several years ago and was embroiled in a mutiny. Frederick has an extremely rigid sense of right and wrong and so could not stand by when the captain was abusing members of the crew._

_Tensions became strained, but ultimately snapped, when a crew member died by throwing himself from the rigging to avoid punishment from the bosun, a man feared for his cruelty. Several times the man had nearly killed children by whipping them so brutally they could do nothing but lie still for weeks and hope to avoid infection. _

_The crew could no longer do nothing. They organised a mutiny. Frederick and a few others were able to convince the men that mercy should be shown, and so they set the captain and senior officers in a boat and left them instead of killing them. Unfortunately, the captain was found, and Fred and the other officers were charged with mutiny and desertion. _

_They have been hunted for years. Every man they have caught has been hung and so Fred has never returned to England. That is, until my mother's decline in health. She knew she was dying, Mrs Thornton. She begged me to write to him and ask him to return. She did not want to die without seeing her only son once more. _

_I did as she asked, for my brother is settled and doing rather well in Cadiz. In fact, he is very recently married. He came, and my mother died within days of his arrival. We decided it was better that Fred leave the country as soon as possible, for Dixon had met a man we used to know in Helstone, a Mr Leonards, who knew Fred and of the events of the mutiny. He was determined to collect the reward offered for Fred's capture. _

_I accompanied Fred to the station where Mr Thornton saw me embracing him, and where we were spotted by Leonards. There was a small scuffle, but Fred boarded the train and Leonards left the station. He was later found dead, and I'm sure Mr Thornton can tell you the rest if you do not know of the inquest._

_I do deeply regret lying to the police officer, however, I had no idea if Fred was still in the country, and I could not bear it if I caused his death. I have little enough family as it is, losing Fred so soon after my mother would have broken me. _

_It pains me to know that I have acted wrongly, but I cannot regret any actions made to keep my brother alive. We have both been reckless, but I can only ask forgiveness for my behaviour to you and Mr Thornton. I could not place Mr Thornton in such a position when he is a magistrate. I could not ask him to choose between his duty and my brother's life. I have been unfair to him before, I could not do so again. _

_I must again thank you, Mrs Thornton, for the opportunity to explain myself. I have been wretched that some of the only friends my father had in Milton think badly of me, and I can only hope that this letter can do away with even the smallest amount of dislike. Thank you, again, and I hope that someday, I may somehow return to Milton and speak with you all properly as a friend._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Margaret Hale._

Margaret was unsure that her letter would have any effect on the cold Hannah Thornton, for she had written immediately upon her arrival to London, late as it was. Tired and upset, she hardly knew what she had written, but was determined to have it sent out immediately first thing in the morning. Once it was in the hands of the servant who took the post, she was at a loss for what to do. She could not walk unaccompanied in London, neither could she visit understanding friends for she had none. Deep in mourning as she was, the people here would not look kindly on her for joining her aunt and cousin on their morning calls, no matter the despair and loneliness she felt.

She eventually wandered into what was called the library, despite the occupants of the house rarely making use of it the way it was intended. She was certain that most of the books were for show, as she had never seen her cousin read anything but the most frivolous novels, and her aunt nothing at all. There was, however, a wonderful family bible (again, Margaret was sure it was hardly ever utilised), and so she lifted it down from its lofty spot and settled on a comfortable chair by the window to read. She passed the next two hours in this manner before the rest of the household rose and she was summoned to breakfast.

Thus, began the days of monotony. Waking, eating when she was told, forcibly denying any diversions her aunt and cousin suggested (for neither of them had shown even the slightest attempts at mourning), and going to bed, but not sleeping until well into the early hours of the morning, no matter how tired she was.

The only bright part of her day was spending time with her wonderful nephew, and she often hid herself away in the nursery and dismissed his nurse to care for him herself. She delighted in his easy smiles and laughter and found she felt truly happy when in his company.

She did begin her walks again, even though she chafed under the company of a maid (who often could not keep up with her) and found that the more she walked, the more dissatisfied she came to be with London and its inhabitants. Her aunt claimed Milton to be a horrid, smoky place, but London was hardly any cleaner, and there was nowhere Margaret could walk to escape the smog like she could in Milton.

Her growing frustration notwithstanding, she could not abide losing the tiny amount of freedom granted by her walks, and so petitioned for a hale footman to accompany her instead. Her aunt was dubious at first (for why would she need to walk so far that a maid was not up to the task?), but eventually agreed, and so her walks became longer, and she was able to explore many of the nearby (and not so nearby) parks.

The first break in the interminable repetition of her new life came in the form of a letter from Mrs Thornton. She had not expected a reply, and after the first, and then the second week passed, she had quashed the sliver of hope that had existed and decided to move on. She must accept that the Thornton's could not forgive her and nothing she said could change that.

Having the letter did not assuage her fear immediately, for she did not have the privacy she desired until later that night in her room. The letter had been pressing at the back of her mind all that day, and despite her fear of an unfavourable answer, she was relieved to finally read it. Tearing open the seal with some impatience, she devoured the words within eagerly.

_Marlborough Mill_

_Miss Hale,_

_I am sorry to hear of your family's struggles. While I agree that your behaviour at the time was worthy of reproof, I can only commend the lengths you have gone to, to keep your brother (and ultimately the rest of your family) safe. It shows a strength of character that I was unwilling to see before. _

_As I said at the time, your mother asked me to watch out for you, and even though you are no longer here and have female companionship again, please know that I am at your service should you require advice. I know what it is to build a life from nothing, Miss Hale. I understand doing everything within your power to keep your family safe._

_I can only empathise with your situation, but please know that it will get better. The world seems a dark place now, but eventually you will find your way._

_I am happy to keep up a correspondence if you are willing, and there are others here who would like to know you are well._

_Yours,_

_Hannah Thornton_

Margaret could hardly contain herself at this reply. While short, it said enough for her to know that Mrs Thornton believed her and absolved her of some of her wrong doing. And to commend her strength of character! Margaret was so joyful she could scarcely sit still. With her restless shifting, the candle she was reading by flickered, casting its light further down the letter. In the near darkness of the room, she had not noticed more writing at the very bottom of the page. Bringing it closer to the candle, she saw a single line in a different hand.

_Thank you, Miss Hale. JT_

She gasped in astonishment. Mr Thornton had written to her! Granted it was barely one line of script, but still, the very fact that he himself sought to respond to her had her smiling so wide her cheeks ached. Oh, certainly it was improper, but she found she could not care. She would take all the comfort she could get, and if it came in the form of a secret note then so be it.

She considered that maybe his mother had allowed him to actually read the letter himself and was filled with warmth. Mrs Thornton had certainly allowed him to add his thanks (from the way her stern exterior practically crumbled when Mr Thornton begged her with his eyes alone, she felt it may not have been particularly difficult for him the convince her), but she never imagined she would get a response like this! For him to thank her, after the abominable way she had treated him, surely must be a sign of forgiveness.

He had said he did not want to think badly of her. Perhaps her letter gave him a reason to think better of her, or perhaps he was just grateful to know why she had lied. But no, Mrs Thornton had written that others wanted to hear of her. Did she mean Mr Thornton? Maybe he had forgiven her. Maybe they could be friends! She longed to pen a response, but the hour was truly very late by now, and she could feel sleep pulling at her eyes. She blew out her candle and settled into bed, before sleeping deeply for the first time since arriving in London.

The next day she arose early, well rested and refreshed, and immediately set out the answer Mrs Thornton's letter. While she did not wish to make herself morbid with reminders of what she had lost, she felt that Mrs Thornton would be the one person to give her sensible advice. So far, her aunt and Edith had only made veiled insinuations to marriage to Henry Lennox, someone she had managed to avoid since her return. They had offered no sympathy, and as much as Margaret loved her cousin, she knew that Edith could be rather self-centred in her wishes.

Still, Mrs Thornton had offered, and Margaret was determined to make a friendship out of this correspondence. She did not have many friends and she refused to lose the ones she made in Milton. And so, she decided to open up to Mrs Thornton, despite not telling any of her relatives her struggles.

_Harley Street_

_Mrs Thornton,_

_Words cannot express the gratitude I feel at your kind letter. I am almost overcome at your offer of advice, for I confess I am sorely in need of it, and I will not find it here. The only suggestions I receive from my family to lessen my grief are highly unsuitable for one in mourning._

_In truth, I do not know how to manage my grief. I have found if I am not careful to control myself I am prone to fits of weeping over the smallest thing. My aunt informed me just yesterday that my father's books had been parcelled up for selling, and I was overcome. After my mother's death I was able to distract myself by caring for my father, but now he is gone, and I am here, I have no purpose. How do I live a life with no purpose? _

_The only times I feel my grief fade are when I take sole care of my nephew for a time, but that is not my duty, and once my aunt or cousin notice, they send the nurse in to reclaim him. Is it wrong for me to feel ungrateful?_

_They have taken me in, but I cannot help but strain against the restrictions placed on me. Several times now I have had to tell falsehoods to escape attending dinner parties. While pleading illness is not necessarily far from the truth (for I do feel somewhat unwell most days), I still feel that I am in the wrong. How do I weigh the respect for my father's mourning against the wishes of my only family?_

_I cannot go to them with my grief, but they do still try to make me happy. Is it my fault that they do not succeed? They tell me I am too stubborn, but I do not understand how. I beg of you to help me untangle these thoughts Mrs Thornton. I fear I am making everything worse than it needs to be._

_Thank you ever so much for your reply. _

_Yours, with gratitude,_

_Margaret Hale_

Letter sent, Margaret could only wait. She applied herself to the relentless tedium of her days, and while she refused to mope, she could not deny a certain lifelessness about her.

Four days after she sent her letter, the meeting she had been dreading for some time occurred. Somehow, she had managed to always be elsewhere when Henry Lennox called, and had cried off eating with the family with a headache whenever he had been invited.

Margaret could not deny perhaps indulging herself slightly there. While she often felt fatigued, it was only when they had company that she could not manage to stay downstairs to attend dinner. She had not necessarily been making a conscious effort to evade him, but she could not refute that she had been purposefully vague about her exact destination on her walks, for fear that Henry would follow her and find her alone.

At least this meeting meant she could use others in the room as a distraction. Her usual walk had been curtailed by a deluge of rain (she had hoped the rain was heavy enough to keep everyone at home) and had returned barely five minutes before Henry arrived. There would be no escaping him this time.

Seated in the sitting room, Margaret did her very best to be her usual self with Henry but found that it was far more difficult than she thought it would be. They had always been friends, but Margaret struggled to reconcile his manner of speaking so unfairly of her life in Milton. How could he know what it was like? All he had done was attempt to denigrate the place in front of Mr Thornton at the Great Exhibition. She was finding it rather demanding to not snap at him, more proof that her control over her emotions was lacking. When Edith joined his attempts at sympathy, Margaret knew she had to speak.

"I thank you both for your endeavours at comfort, however, you are both trying to comfort me for the wrong thing. I am not sad because I lived in Milton. Nor am I upset that it was a coarse city of industry. I miss my father. I would much rather hear the goodness of him than your opinions on a place neither of you have ever been to."

She knew she had been a little sharp at the end of her speech, but she found that she could no longer listen to Milton being insulted without taking offence.

"Oh Margaret!" Edith still could not seem to fathom that she wished to respect her mourning period. "Surely if you had not moved to Milton, Aunt would not have died. And if she was here then Mr Hale would be as well for surely, he died of a broken heart! You always said they loved each other dearly."

"Edith, my mother would have died regardless. Somethings can not be treated by sea air."

"But surely being in Milton did not help!"

"In many ways it did. Being a large city of commerce meant that there was always a variety of fresh fruit available for her to eat. In Helstone we did not get such a variety. We could only get what was produced locally. I know my original prejudice of the place may be tainting your view, but I assure you, it is not as bad as I once thought. It merely took some time to acclimate to it. Did I not hate London when I first came here, years ago? Milton is not so very different."

Edith was too shocked to reply. That Milton could be like London seemed to have stunned her into silence, a silence Margaret was happy for. Henry however, would not be dumbfounded by her views.

"Margaret, I'm sure Edith does not mean that it was Milton itself that caused so many problems. Perhaps being so far from her family is what had such a severe affect on you mother. In such a savage society, it cannot have been good for her."

Margaret found her annoyance growing once more. Henry spoke in a condescending manner, as if she or Edith were not able to understand their own thoughts and words. Her voice was like acid as she replied.

"I do not see how moving a few hundred miles north could have made much difference. Her family was not even in this _country _when we left Helstone_. They_ did not attend the funeral. _They_ did not support her husband or daughter when they were left alone without her. It was our friends in Milton that bore us through. I would thank you to stop speaking of the place that was truly a home to me. The society was no more savage than that of Helstone."

Henry tried to respond but she spoke over him. "What does it matter if men labour in fields or a factory? What does it matter that one man earns a living from teaching or another in manufacturing?" Now she had started, she could not stop. "You work for a living, Henry. Why is your profession so much better than that of the Masters? Do hundreds of men rely on your every decision? Do you have the power to ruin a man, to cast his family into the grip of poverty, in mere seconds? I will hear no more of the evils of Milton. Not from people who are ignorant of everything about it."

Her voice had grown louder as her emotion unlocked everything she had wished to say in the weeks she had been in London. No more could she tolerate her relations speaking the way they had. No more could she fight to keep her happy memories of Milton. She had grown far too much to ignore the importance it had in her life. As Margaret took in the astounded expressions of everyone in the room (she had attracted the attention of Mrs Shaw and Captain Lennox), she felt her defiance grow.

She would not let them preach to her how she should behave. They had no respect for her father. She would act in the manner she saw fit. And if that meant loud arguments about her home, then she would shout her opposition from the rooftops. She would not be cowed into silence by how they expected her to behave. Their behaviour was indecent in the face of her tragedy, and she would no longer allow it.

She rose stiffly, gave a regal nod, and swept from the room without asking to be excused. Alone, locked away in her room, Margaret stared blankly at the wall. Now her anger was abating, she was beginning to feel chagrined about how she had spoken. She could not regret her words, but they could have been spoken with greater delicacy. Margaret could not consider bringing herself to apologise, not in that moment at least, and her churning thoughts could not be released to anyone here.

Quite without thinking, Margaret found herself at her writing desk, detailing the argument and her resolve to Mrs Thornton. She hoped that lady would not mind a second letter so soon after her first, without waiting for a reply, but found that there was no one else she felt she could tell. No one here would understand. Mrs Thornton at least, could not berate her loyalty to Milton and its people.

Margaret had just finished sealing her letter when a knock sounded at her door. After a moments debate, she called out for them to enter, and a cautious looking Edith stepped in. While Margaret was determined to stick to her resolve of behaving as she felt was right, she could not help but feel a pang of guilt at Edith's wary expression. She did not wish to be at odds with her cousin (they were practically sisters) but she would stand firm when it came to defending Milton from her hypocrisy.

"You do not seem yourself, Margaret."

Margaret had seen Edith use this meek manner many times. Edith had never truly felt any consequences for wrong doing in all her life. All it took was a submissive tilt to her head and a cowed expression and she was let off. No. Margaret would not allow the same thing to happen. Edith had to understand that she could not always have her way.

"I am the way I have always been, Edith. You simply do not wish to see it."

Edith's eyes sparkled with tears.

"Do you wish so badly to not be with us?"

"That has not ever, at any point, been the topic of conversation, Edith. If you wish to take my refusal to listen to you insult my friends as a wish to not be here, that is all on you."

Edith was silent for a moment. The tears did not fall but sat threatening against her lashes.

"Do you blame us for not being there when Aunt died?"

Margaret sighed. She was particularly harsh when making that point, and she was beginning to feel the remorse at her conduct.

"It could not be helped, Edith. You are not at fault for being absent. As I said, you were not even in the country at the time, there was no way you could have been there. I am not upset at that. I am, however, upset that you always imply my father is at fault for her death by taking her to Milton. I will not hear you blame him anymore."

Edith's lips quivered at her tone, but she nodded and looked away.

"And I would appreciate you inform everyone else of that as well."

Edith stared at her, aghast.

"You cannot expect me to tell them all that!"

"Why not?" Margaret's voice was unforgiving. "You have thought nothing of my discomfort in asking you, several times I might add, to cease speaking the way you did. Why should I not behave the way you have?

"For weeks I have struggled to make myself heard above your selfish desires. I do not wish to go to dinner parties. I do not wish to attend balls. And I certainly do not wish to marry Henry Lennox! I will not become a piece in your game of domestic felicity. I will not be ordered about as if I have no ability to think for myself." Edith had truly started to cry now.

"I see you think me cruel, Edith, but you must see that you ask too much of me. I may be dependent on your goodness to live, but I will not depend on your judgement, when my own is what matters most." She refused to mention that she was actually depending on Mrs Thornton's judgement at this time. That would only make this situation more difficult. "I am sorry for how harsh I have been today, but I have tried for quite some time to ask you to be kinder. It is not fair for you to treat me this way. Especially not when I feel indebted to you for offering me your home."

Edith attempted to wipe away her tears. "I did not know that is how you felt, Margaret."

"You did not wish to listen."

"I think..." Edith paused for a moment, looking thoughtful. "I think you might be right. But I so want us to all be happy here, Margaret! Why could we not be one big, wonderful family?"

Margaret knew it was too soon to hope that Edith would leave off her wish of a union with Henry, even if she did seem to agree to her wishes regarding her father. With a wry smile (for her annoyance had faded with Edith attempting to listen for a change) she made her reply in a much more cheerful manner than she would have done half an hour ago.

"Oh Edith. Are we not already a big happy family? Henry is your brother in law and we are practically sisters! Why do Henry and I need to marry to make it complete?"

"It would be so perfect, Margaret! And you would not have to leave me then. I have missed you dreadfully you know."

"I have missed you as well, Edith. But I will not marry Henry. I care for him, but we are merely friends. Nothing more will come of it."

Edith pouted. "I know he would like something to come of it."

"Then you must stop encouraging him, Edith. I will not change my mind."

With a sigh, Edith agreed. "Yes, you are far too stubborn when you come to a decision. Very well, I will stop encouraging Henry. But you must come down to dinner tonight. No more hiding from our guests."

"I will be there, but only if you tell them what I have told you."

Brows furrowed. Edith agreed and left Margaret alone once more.

Looking back at the letter she had written, Margaret decided that Mrs Thornton did not need to know the details of such an outburst. She was almost ashamed that her first letter had such a tone of despondency to it, she could not bear sending one so full of anger. Margaret ripped the letter in half.

She hoped her conversation with Edith would pave the way to a less turbulent existence, even if she did not expect it to happen immediately. It would certainly help her roiling emotions if she was not called upon to constantly defend her friends from insult. She was no stranger to righteous anger, but experiencing it relentlessly was taking its toll, and she would prefer to return to her more placid state of being.

Centring her thoughts and preparing for dinner took her the rest of the afternoon, and so when she finally joined her family in the sitting room, it had been several hours since she had seen them. There was an almost tangible tension as she entered, not helped by the conversation coming to an abrupt stop as she appeared. The ever-affable Captain stepped into the breach and rescued her from the stares of her family.

"Margaret! Come, you must help me. You are far more observant than I and living in Milton means you probably know a great deal more than me. I need your opinion on cotton."

Joining him on the settee she gazed at him quizzically.

"Cotton?"

"Yes! I meant what I said at the Exhibition, you know. Cotton is the industry to invest in by my reckoning. What do you say? Should I be writing to the masters to ask after returns?"

"Perhaps. I must admit I do not know much of the market forces that surround cotton. Only what Mr Thornton has mentioned regarding his mill. I know he does some things differently, for he has debated his decisions with the other masters."

Henry joined the conversation by seating himself on the adjacent chair. "Were you often in conversation with Mr Thornton about his business, Margaret?" There was a distance in Henry's voice that made Margaret wary. What could he mean by it?

"He would sometimes discuss business matters with my father, but I often only spoke to him about his workers welfare." She turned back to the captain. "Did you know he is the only master in Milton to have fitted a wheel? He claims it is only sound business sense, but it is obvious he seeks to keep them as safe as possible."

"How does he claim it to be good sense?"

"Oh he says having healthier workers mean they live longer and bring their families to work there as well, meaning less training and mistakes, but honestly I cannot see that so many people drop dead of brown lung often enough for it to be a worthwhile investment. No, I refuse to believe his business was his only consideration."

The captain smiled at her. "We are not all such humanitarians as you, Margaret. Perhaps he really does only see it in business terms."

"All the other masters disagree with him. The see it as wasted money. They do not value the lives of their workers they way Mr Thornton does."

Just then the bell rang for dinner and Henry offered his arm to escort her before the captain could. Seated next to him at the table was awkward to begin with. Especially when he asked pointed questions about her relationship with Mr Thornton.

"I had not thought you were particularly close with the Thornton's. It would seem you have seen more of them than you let on."

"Perhaps it is merely that you never asked, Henry."

Henry clearly did not like that response and turned to speak to Mrs Shaw who was seated on his other side. Edith captured her attention and she could not regret the distraction. Listening to Edith chatter about this or that was far easier than parsing the intention behind Henry's questions. She felt he was implying something, but what, she did not know. Eventually Henry directed his conversation back at her, and his meaning became clear.

"I do believe you miss your Mr Thornton, Margaret. You have hardly spoken of anyone else in Milton, should we fear your imminent removal back to that place?"

Margaret was too shocked to do more than flush angrily. That he would say such a thing, in front of her family no less, was an obvious sign he did not forgive her outburst earlier in the afternoon. What was it about her that provoked men to rudeness at dinner? First Mr Thornton, now Henry. Well, she supposed Mr Thornton was justified in his anger - although not his manner of expressing it – but she could not understand Henry being so angry.

Everyone at the table had stopped speaking and turned to stare at her. With embarrassment written plainly across her features, Margaret attempted to answer him in a dignified manner, despite the mortification she felt.

"Of course I miss my friends, Mr Lennox. I think it only natural that I would wish to speak of them."

The tension in the room was almost choking. Her reply was icy, so much so that Edith had flinched away from her. Henry seemed unperturbed however, and obviously noticed her use of his surname.

"And yet you only seem to speak of one person in particular. Can you blame me for wondering?" He raised a mocking eyebrow.

The hours Margaret spent that afternoon calming her mind in readiness for this dinner were undone. Anger surged through her and her hands clenched around the cutlery she was holding. Her words were cutting.

"I only speak of one person because I do not wish to offend your delicate sensibilities by talking of my friends who work the looms. I should hate for you to feel like you had lowered yourself by conversing with someone who associates with common factory labourers. If Mr Thornton is not up to your exacting standards, how could I have spoken of the men and women who rely on him?"

Henry merely smirked. Margaret was infuriated. His superior manner nearly destroyed all the control she had over her emotions, and she felt it better to remove herself from the situation before she said something she would regret.

Standing, she excused herself, and hurried out the room. Collapsing against the wall in the hall she could hear the conversation start up again in the dining room.

"That was badly done, Henry." The usually jovial captain did not sound happy.

"Yes Henry! I told you what Margaret said. Did you not listen at all to me?"

At least she knew that Edith had tried to make things better for her.

"I merely think you should be discouraging any attachments to that place."

She could listen no longer. Running up the stairs to her room, she shut herself in before heavy tears started falling. She was still crying when Edith entered her room unannounced. Climbing up onto the bed to sit with her, Edith wrapped an arm around her and let her cry into her shoulder. Several minutes passed before Margaret's tears stopped, but eventually they did, and she sat up, wiping her eyes on a handkerchief from her bedside drawers.

Silence reigned for a few moments. Margaret felt awkward in her dishevelled state in front of Edith, but Edith seemed unbothered by her tears.

"I am sorry, Edith. I am out of sorts today."

"It is no matter, Margaret. But it is unlike you to get upset over something like this. I promise I did tell them all what you said. I can hardly understand what Henry was thinking.

"I confess I was rather shocked."

"He must not be himself," Edith mused.

Margaret frowned. "I do not understand what he meant by asking those questions."

Edith looked away from her. Guilt was plainly written on her face and Margaret's suspicions were raised.

"Edith, do you know what he meant?"

Edith sighed. "I believe he may be jealous."

"Jealous!" Margaret could not help exclaiming. "Of what?"

"I told you he wanted more than a friendship with you, Margaret. I think he is feeling threatened by your preference for Mr Thornton."

Margaret could not speak for shock. That Henry was jealous was one thing, but to presume she was attached to Mr Thornton was ludicrous! Gathering her wits, she spoke as coherently as she could.

"Mr Thornton? I cannot be blamed for speaking of his kindness when Henry talks of Milton like it is a country of barbarians. And really! Henry has no right to be jealous. I have made it clear we are to be friends and nothing more. His behaviour to me over an imagined competition makes me wonder if we can remain as friends."

"Oh Margaret. Please do stay friends with him! I am sure when he is thinking clearly he will be sorry."

"It will depend on his treatment of me after this, Edith." Edith eyes dropped from her. "I will not remain friends with someone willing to cause such upset over something that does not concern him."

Edith was looking at her strangely. Confusion was clear in her furrowed brow and downturned mouth. Her eyes were directed down where their skirts melded, and their joined hands rested.

"Margaret?"

"Yes, Edith, what is it? You seem distracted."

"We are very close aren't we, Margaret?"

"Yes of course, Edith. But why are you asking?"

"I told you all about my courtship with the captain. About everything I felt for him."

"Yes, you did." Margaret was bewildered by Edith's strange words.

"Would you do the same with me?"

"Yes of course, Edith. We are practically sisters."

"Then you will answer me truthfully?"

"I am always honest with you, Edith."

Edith nodded and took a deep breath.

"Are you in love with Mr Thornton?"

Of all the questions she expected, that was not one of them. In love with Mr Thornton! Why would she even think that? Her shock must have been obvious for Edith rushed to explain herself.

"You _have_ spoken a great deal about him, Margaret. And Mother said you spoke with him for some time when you took your leave of him."

Speech was still impossible. The concept of her family believing her in love with Mr Thornton had thrown her completely. Still reeling from her emotional day, this was one more thing to disturb her already unbalanced mind.

"I…I do not understand why you would think so."

"Margaret." Edith lifted their joint hands. "You have his handkerchief."

And sure enough, the handkerchief she held bore the initials JT. It was no wonder Edith had suddenly begun this strange interrogation!

"No…No we are merely…merely friends, Edith."

Edith frowned. "But you kept his handkerchief."

"I did not mean to." Margaret despaired. "I forgot about it in the stress of the day."

"But why would he give you his handkerchief?" Edith seemed determined to make her point. "Surely you had your own."

"I was upset, Edith. I was not thinking clearly. He was merely trying to comfort me."

Edith stared at her, her puzzled expression making it clear that she was not accepting Margaret's explanation.

"When was this?"

"When we took our leave. He was so kind to me when I did not deserve it. I was overcome."

"How did he comfort you? I assume at this point you were alone."

Margaret blushed.

"Margaret? What did he do? That is a peculiar expression you have on your face, I have never seen it before."

Margaret tried turning away to hide her face, but Edith would not let her.

"Come now, Margaret, I know you too well for it to be something scandalous. You know all about my courtship with the captain, you will not shock me."

"Edith, I am not courting Mr Thornton. My actions would be far less indecent if I were."

"So, something did happen."

"I…He…" Margaret sighed in defeat. "He meant nothing by it. It was a simple embrace while I was crying, that is all."

"You embraced!" Edith did not seem shocked, but rather excited by it.

"Yes, but as I said, it meant nothing."

"Margaret do you think he embraces every upset lady he knows?"

Margaret recoiled slightly. "I do not like what you are implying."

"Oh, come now, Margaret! Is it wrong for me to assume that there may be something between you? You keep his handkerchief and admit he embraced you while you were upset. It seems to me that-"

"Please stop, Edith. Mr Thornton cannot care for me. I have done him wrong, Edith. What you say is impossible."

"Oh, Margaret it does not seem so very impossible to me. But how can you have done him wrong? Surely it is not so serious as all that."

"It is very serious, Edith. I have apologised but I know he did not think well of me. I hope I have changed his opinion but there is no hope for anything more."

Edith frowned. "Margaret, you sound as if you regret not having a chance with him."

Margaret finally managed to turn away. "I had my chance." She whispered dolefully.

"What was he to you?"

"He was a great friend of my father's."

"That is not what I am asking. I want to know what you think of him."

"He…" Could she tell Edith her true thoughts? She had spent so long alone, keeping her circling thoughts locked away, could Edith help her? "He is kind. He seemed a great rough fellow at first, and it true that he is not so refined as your friends here, but it becomes him. He has such an air of authority, it is impossible not to listen when he speaks. He is not forceful, but rather it is in his very manner of being.

"He is loyal to his family; indeed, he has worked so hard for them that he neglected his wish to learn until my father arrived in Milton. He was unerringly thoughtful when mother was ill. He knew we could not afford what we needed and saw that it was provided with out fanfare. He is a good man. I…I like him a great deal, Edith. I should be glad to call him a friend."

Edith gave her a strange smile. "It would seem Henry has a great deal to be jealous of."

Margaret stared at her, bewildered. Surely, she could not still be suggesting an attachment! But she was still smiling at her with a knowing look and Margaret knew nothing she said would discourage her.

"Perhaps, Margaret, you should tell me everything of your acquaintance with Mr Thornton. Then we may argue about his feelings, for you cannot debate with only half the information!"

Despite her misgivings, Margaret acquiesced. She told Edith everything. Their initial meeting, his actions in the mill, the riot, his proposal (Edith looked so gleeful that Margaret thought she might squeal and start clapping), Fred and the station, before explaining his dislike and distance since then. She also gave a more detailed account of his kindness when she took her leave. By the time Margaret had finished, Edith was beaming.

"Oh Margaret, it is so obvious! He loves you!"

"No Edith, he cannot."

"He certainly can!" Edith declared. "You have told me nothing that has made me change my mind. Did he not behave as Henry did just now at that dinner party you spoke of? He must have been jealous of Frederick!"

"But…" Margaret stopped. He had said he could not hate her even though he had tried. But no, he had declared his passion foolish and assured her it was no more. Why would he lie? Her eyes landed on Mrs Thornton's reply. Did she not hope he had forgiven her? Did he not imply that he wanted to think well of her? But surely a good opinion did not mean love.

"Margaret, I can see you thinking. What makes you think he does not love you?"

"He told me. He specifically said he did not."

"Oh posh, Margaret! A man scorned will say anything to wound. If he meant it, he would not have treated you the way he did when you left. No man is that good."

Margaret felt faint. She could not quash the sliver of hope that grew in her heart at Edith's words. She knew her cousin to be a romantic, fancying herself in and out of love before she met the captain, but she could not deny that some of her words were beginning to make sense in her churning thoughts. Could she allow herself to believe it? Was there a point? She lived in London now and had no cause to ever see him again. Nothing could come of it. That thought deflated her, so much that she sagged against the backboard of her bed.

"Margaret?"

"Oh Edith, do not taunt me with what could have been, had I behaved properly and treated him with the respect her deserved."

"But Margaret, he must care for you!"

"Please, Edith. It cannot be. When would I ever see him again? No, it is best I remember him as a friend and nothing more. I do not need yet another disappointment."

"Oh Margaret." Edith sounded just as wretched as she felt. "I am sorry. You deserve to be happy. I hoped having someone who cared for you like Mr Thornton seemed to would cheer you up. Now I fear I might have made it worse.

Margaret smiled bravely. "I will manage just as I always have in the face of loss. I have you now to help me. I am no longer so alone."

Edith pulled her into a tight hug. "You will always have me, Margaret. Even if you move far away, I will always want to know how my Margaret is faring."

A few tears leaked from Margaret's eyes to Edith's shoulder, but she pulled back with a small, genuine smile brightening her face, gladdened that someone here had offered her the comfort she needed.

Edith left her to return downstairs and Margaret rang for a maid to help her ready for bed. While in Milton it had been Dixon that would help her, she still found it hard to not be short with the servant after her return from clearing their Crampton home. So, Dixon had taken up the post of being Mrs Shaw's personal attendant as she had for her mother, and Margaret was free from self-righteous remarks.

After dismissing the maid, Margaret climbed under her covers and lay staring at the ceiling. She could do nothing but dwell on all her past interactions with Mr Thornton, tortured by the vision of what she could have had.

It was a long time before she slept.

* * *

A/N: I'll be honest, this chapter was supposed to go somewhere else. The majority of what I've written here was supposed to be a small filler scene that has spiralled into something much longer! Despite that, I hope you enjoy seeing Margaret interact with her cousin, and I hope Margaret's emotions make sense to you all. Once again I aim to bring the next update in about a months time. Thank you for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

Hello everybody! I'm so sorry this has taken longer than it should, work has become hectic since the outbreak of Corona Virus. Thank you for all of you lovely reviews, they have all made me extremely happy! I hope you enjoy this next chapter.

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Two days after her talk with Edith, Margaret was still struggling to throw off the misery that clung to her. Despite being glad that she had Edith on her side, she was forcibly reminded of just how much she had lost in Milton. It had been some time since she had thought of poor Bessy Higgins, but her new companionship with Edith reminded her of one of her only friends, and she was struck again by how much she had lost in so short a time.

Wandering into the hall after breakfast she spied her name on the table where the post was placed to be distributed amongst the household. A surge of energy had her snatch up the letter and check the seal. Mrs Thornton had replied! Almost unable to check the animation she suddenly felt, she called for her footman and set off for a walk to the nearest park. Striding quickly through the streets, she soon found herself a convenient and out the way bench to sit on, and eagerly tore open her letter.

_Marlborough Mill_

_Miss Hale_

_I am sorry to hear of your despondency, however sometimes you must allow yourself to grieve. It is true that a purpose may allow you to manage your grief, but you must not push it aside. It is not selfish to want a sympathetic ear, do not allow your wish for meaningful conversation to add to the guilt you already feel over your situation. I have enough faith in your strength of character to understand that you will not do what you think is wrong. If your family is pushing you, stand firm. It would not do to compromise your standards. Especially if they are suggesting improper amusement. A small amount of frivolous diversion is not always improper, but I trust that you shall know the difference. _

_Do not stop yourself from feeling happy. You need not feel guilty for happiness; it is not possible to be sad all the time. Do not cling to your misery. Feel it and move on._

_As for purpose, you will simply have to create your own purpose, one that is not reliant on others._

_I cannot make this situation better for you but know that you have a willing ear in me. I know grief all too well, and while it is not the same, there are always similarities to be found in these situations. You are not alone. The pain you feel will eventually fade, and you will look back on your memories fondly. You will always miss your parents, Miss Hale, that will never change, but I feel you are strong enough to not be overcome. _

_I am here if you require help, Miss Hale. You need not fear improper suggestions from me._

_Hannah Thornton_

_P.S. Moments after I declared I would offer no impropriety I was set upon by my son, who wishes to know of your welfare. If you will permit it, I shall give him your letter to read. I will own that John has read your first letter as I felt your words would be better than mine. I admit that I was still angry with you for your treatment of him and felt that he deserved to see your apologies himself. If I overstepped, I apologise, but I have done what I thought was best._

Margaret hardly knew what to think. So much in one letter! The emotions rushing through her almost set her trembling. But the relief she felt at such understanding was so profound that she could hardly keep her seat. She had never had such a sensible woman to turn to before and the difference between her family and Mrs Thornton was staggering. Even though she felt that Edith understood her better after her outburst the other night, she had still been prodding her for weeks to let go of her melancholy and enjoy the world, but it was not until Mrs Thornton but it in such a straight forward way that she even considered that she could do it. She was sorry that her attitude when she arrived in Milton was such that Mrs Thornton felt no urge to begin a friendship (not that Margaret would have warmly welcomed her) and now felt the loss of wisdom such a lady could have imparted. Especially considering the circumstances of her mother's death.

And Mr Thornton! He was asking after her. Surely, he would not care so much if he had not forgiven her. And to question his mother enough that she would simply hand her letter over must show a keen interest in her wellbeing. How she wished she could write to him directly! But that would certainly be outside the realm of propriety Mrs Thornton would be willing to tolerate, and short of being deceitful there was no way she could communicate with him. She would certainly allow Mrs Thornton to show him her letter, despite how much despair it contained, but she would ask Mrs Thornton to relay her reassurance that she was better and happier already from Mrs Thornton's advice. Yes, he would know that she was thinking of him.

She was just about the return home when she heard her name being called. With growing trepidation, she turned and saw Henry walking towards her. She could not escape his notice and so resigned herself to at least greeting him.

"Mr Lennox."

"Oh, come now, Margaret, it has been years since you called me that."

"I do not feel that we are close enough for such familiarity, Mr Lennox. I think I hardly know you."

"Margaret, friends argue all the time. It does not stop them being friends."

"Perhaps not, but being needlessly cruel and not apologising are not the actions of a friend." Margaret turned away from him. "Do excuse me, I am needed at home."

She walked away as quickly as she could, but Henry caught her easily and matched her pace.

"Is that what you want, Margaret? An apology?"

"No. I want you to decide for yourself that I am owed an apology."

Henry laughed. "You are being difficult today, Margaret."

"You will refer to me as Miss Hale, Mr Lennox. Such familiarity is for my friends and you are not my friend. Only when you remember your manners will I consider a friendship with you." With a regal toss of her head, Margaret forged onwards, ignoring Henry's look of shock.

"Do you accuse me of being unmannerly?" He called to her.

"I do. Your behaviour has left me in no doubt of it."

Henry blinked at her and said nothing for the remainder of the time it took to reach home. Once inside, Margaret left Henry in the hallway and made her way to her room to consider him. It was clear he thought there was nothing wrong in his actions at dinner two nights ago, and Margaret would not allow him to believe he was correct. He did not have the right to an opinion on the company she kept, and she would soon disabuse him of the notion that she would allow him to continue seeking what she had once denied. His sheer arrogance infuriated her, and it took her some time to calm down enough to write a reply to Mrs Thornton. She did not wish to write another letter so full of sadness and so waited until she had a measure of equanimity before she began writing.

Just as she picked up her pen, a knock sounded on her door. Calling out for them to enter, Margaret was unsurprised when Edith walk in to her room. She smiled at her as Edith sat on the edge of her bed.

"I take it you have come to take up Henry's case for him?"

"Oh, Margaret, am I that transparent?"

"No, I merely know you very well."

Edith laughed. "I suppose you do. To be honest though, I am not sure I am quite ready to be on his side. He is absolutely refusing to see what he did wrong! Even my little Sholto seems to know better than he does. But you will forgive him eventually, won't you? When he apologises?"

Margaret sighed. "I suppose I will, even if at the moment I do not feel much cordiality towards him."

"I still cannot believe he will not see that he is wrong! His pig-headedness astounds me. I had always thought him perfectly reasonable until now. He fancies himself too clever in my opinion."

"Perhaps it is as you said the other day." Margaret mused. "A man scorned will say anything to wound."

"Scorned? How can he be scorned if he never put himself forward?"

Margaret blushed.

"Margaret, Mr Thornton is not the only man you have refused, is he?"

She shook her head. "No. Henry proposed to me before I left Helstone. It was so long ago though! I had thought he would move on, for he never truly loved me." She considered her more recent interactions with Henry. "I should probably have seen this coming. He was quite rude to Mr Thornton at the Exhibition last year, quite without provocation. I never imagined it would be something as silly as jealousy!"

Edith looked sceptical but accepted her words. "Poor Margaret! Another woman would love having two men fight over her. But not you! In any case, he should not be so rude to you. He shall not be invited here until he learns to treat you properly. We have made you uncomfortable enough already, I will not purposefully make it worse."

Margaret smiled. "You are too good to me, Edith."

"Nonsense. Now, Nurse and I are going to take Sholto out the park this afternoon since it is such a lovely day. Will you come?"

Her smile widened. "I would love to."

Edith jumped up with glee. "Oh, this shall be a wonderful afternoon! I shall see you at lunch, Margaret." And with that, Edith left the room in a flurry of skirts.

Margaret smiled indulgently at her closed door for a moment before once again picking up her pen and settled herself in to write.

_Harley Street_

_Mrs Thornton,_

_Once again, I am truly grateful to receive your reply. Thank you ever so much for the advice you have provided. No one here seems to quite understand my grief (even though, due to a certain situation a few days ago, my cousin is trying her best) and knowing that you can comprehend my feelings makes me feel a little less alone._

_And now I feel I must explain my reference to a 'certain situation'. Truth be told I quite lost my temper a few nights ago, but I hope you will not judge me too harshly when I tell you it was all in defence of Milton. I am sure I have surprised you!_

_To be very truthful, I have seen my behaviour when I first arrived in Milton in a very unflattering light and beg leave to apologise for my condescending ways. How you were so calm with me I have no idea and I am sure you must have been heartily glad to leave my company, for I was very glad to escape my family when they were stating the same opinions I know myself to have held at some point. _

_In all honesty, though I argued with my family (I must admit it was rather more like me shouting at them) I am glad it happened, for now Edith has taken it upon herself to champion me, and I no longer feel like I am shouting to make myself known. She has not suggested anything improper since and has gone out of her way to plan activities I will enjoy taking part in (we are to go for a stroll in the park with my nephew this afternoon; normally she would let the nurse take care of this), and I dearly hope she continues to do so until I feel comfortable enough setting aside my mourning._

_In response to your post script, I am perfectly at ease with you allowing Mr Thornton to read the letters I sent to you. If you are unsure in future, please know that I will make it clear if I intend what I write to remain strictly between the two of us, should you feel the need to share anymore of my letters. Please do tell Mr Thornton that I am feeling much better than I did when I wrote my last letter. I know it was full of despair, and I would not have either of you unduly concerned._

_Dear me! I am being quite self-centred in my writings. I have completely neglected to ask after your health! I do hope that you are both well and that all is as it should be at the mill._

_I must close now, for I am being summoned most forcefully by my nephew, who has somehow managed to escape his nurse and find his way to my room._

_I remain most gratefully yours,_

_Margaret Hale_

"Now, Sholto, where are your manners! Do you not know you must knock before entering a lady's room?" She scooped him up, smiling at his giggles. "And her bedroom no less! You are quite the scoundrel young sir. We must teach you some manners."

He laughed at her tone, before settling down quite happily on her lap. Edith must not have closed the door properly on her way out, for Sholto was not quite big enough to be opening doors on his own just yet.

"Since you are here, Sholto, would you like to help me?" An excited nod was her response. "You must help me send this letter. I shall melt the wax and then you may stamp it."

Keeping the candle and hot wax away from Sholto's grasping hands proved to be simple enough. Sholto was delighted when they pressed the stamp to the little puddle of wax and was even happier to be entrusted with the letter as they made their way downstairs.

"Now Sholto, you must be very careful as you hold this, understood?"

"Yes Auntie"

"Good, come, we shall go and find the servant to send it out for us."

Held securely in her arms, Sholto and Margaret made their way downstairs, finding a servant to take her letter in the entrance hall. Sholto passed over his precious cargo (with some encouragement from Margaret for he was reluctant to part with it) and they made their way back to the nursey, finding the fretful nurse on the landing.

Handing her charge over, Margaret proceeded on to the library and settled herself in to read until lunch.

The rest of the day passed in a joyful state. They spent a delightful few hours at the park, allowing Sholto to run as much as his little legs would allow him. Later that night, as Margaret was readying for bed, she was unsurprised to hear a knock on her door. She was surprised however, by who opened it.

Since her outburst at dinner, her Aunt Shaw had not spoken much to her past what courtesy would demand of being in the same room. That she was here now astonished Margaret.

Mrs Shaw, an indolent lady at best, came and sat on Margaret's bed with a long sigh.

"I think I may have been neglecting you since you arrived here, Margaret."

Margaret could not say out loud that she agreed, but her silence seemed to tell Mrs Shaw what she thought.

"I see now that removing you so quickly from Milton may not have been in your best interests. You were right to demand your Thornton visit."

Margaret accepted this with a nod. "I know you meant well." She would not say that she believed Mrs Shaw's motives had a decent dose of self-interest but was feeling particularly magnanimous that evening after such a wonderful afternoon and so forgave her that fault.

"I have been speaking with Edith."

Margaret tensed. What would Edith have shared? "Oh?"

"Yes. I realise now that forcing you out of mourning so quickly is not what you wish. I will not force you to plead illness to avoid evenings out again, Margaret. I will let you decide how you proceed."

"Thank you, Aunt. Knowing I have the support of my family makes me far less miserable."

"Good. And do not fear about Henry. I will not have such a rude man in my home. He will certainly feel the consequences of his actions before we grant him clemency."

"Thank you, Aunt."

With a smile and a brief goodnight, Mrs Shaw left, and Margaret could not help but consider the difference in how she felt now, merely two days after her family started listening, compared to those first few weeks of loneliness. No wonder she had lost control in such a way!

Now she was alone though, she felt the familiar stirring of longing for her parents. It had been over a month since her father died and the fact that she did not have the chance to say a proper goodbye weighed heavily on her. At least her mother was surrounded by family when she died.

Margaret comforted herself that her parents were now together, away from the worries of their mortal lives. She hoped that they would not judge her too harshly for her poor behaviour since arriving on London.

Lying on her bed she considered how her mild parents would have reacted if they had seen her act the way she had. It was likely that she would receive nothing more than a gentle rebuke, not a punishment, but it would have shamed her nonetheless. Oh, but she would give anything to receive even a disappointed frown from them again. It had been such a long time since she had seen her mother, she was beginning to forget what she looked like. That, more than anything else in that moment, caused her to weep. The thought that she would eventually forget what her father looked like had her distraught.

Hiccupping into her pillow she tried to think of who she could discuss this particular upset with but found she could not imagine speaking of it. Her aunt lost her husband many years ago, and their marriage was not one of love. Edith rarely saw her father when he was alive, when he died it had no effect on her life. And to ask Mrs Thornton to speak in anything but the broadest terms about her husband seemed unreasonably cruel. To ask her to relive her feelings immediately after that devastating event merely to satisfy her wish for some morbid kind of companionship was not something Margaret could do.

Her mind turned to Mr Thornton, but she forcefully pushed him from her thoughts. He would certainly be understanding, but he too missed her father. Making him comfort her at the expense of his own feelings made her miserable at the mere thought of using him in such a way. He deserved far better than that.

Despite her attempt to think of something else, she could not shift her thoughts of Mr Thornton. He had been so good to them, sometimes the realisation of how awfully she treated him struck her sharply and all she could do was ache with the regret that his was a far superior character to hers, no matter all her posturing about the poor.

Eventually Margaret fell asleep but woke with such a depression of spirits that she could hardly find the energy to move out of bed. The lethargy from those first days of grief resettled over her, and even poor Sholto could not break the haze that surrounded her. She went through the motions of the day, eating mechanically and not attending the conversation around her.

It was a relief to escape to her room that night, away from the concerned glances she could do nothing about. She knew Edith was worried for her. Unfortunately, there was nothing that Edith could do for her this time, having the support of her remaining family did not fill the gap left by her parents, and she could not envisage ever not feeling hollow.

Sleep again did not come easily and the next day she was even more tired. Normally an early riser (especially when compared to her city dwelling relations) she was almost shocked when she rose and found she had missed breakfast. As it was, she found it hard for any emotion to pierce the shroud of sadness that surrounded her, and so made her way to the dining room with her gloom following her like a shadow.

Eyeing the left-over food with something that was nearly distaste, Margaret changed her mind about eating and returned to her room. There she sat until summoned to lunch, where Edith attempted to make conversations with her, but soon gave up at the lack of answer. Pulling herself back up the stairs to retire once more sapped Margaret of her remaining energy and she collapsed onto her bed once she reached it.

The simmering anger that leant her strength before her outburst was gone, and the inclination to keep busy, gone with it. Books did not hold her attention (they reminded her of all her father's now sold books) and walking would only remind her of Milton. It seemed she would be confined to staring at walls until she found a spark of happiness again.

Several days passed, each as long and unvarying as the one before, before Margaret found a bit of liveliness. It seemed that Mrs Thornton was correct. The grief would pass. While the sorrow remained, it was no longer so heavy, and she was not exhausted by walking down the stairs for breakfast. Edith was happy to see her looking a little less tired and was even happier to receive a response above a pitiful whisper at her enquiries.

Margaret felt somewhat ashamed to have caused such a worry and promised to not allow herself to get into such a state again. She was hopeful though, that the worst was over, and she would be capable of managing the melancholy when it inevitably hit her once again.

While she did feel much better, she had still not recovered enough to be able to go for her customary walk. Edith noticed her longing for the outdoors and proposed an outing in the open carriage the captain kept for her. Feeling stifled inside made the prospect of a carriage ride seem wonderful and they were soon on their way round one of the larger parks.

"Are you feeling better now, Margaret?"

Margaret could not help but smile. "Yes Edith, I am feeling much better. I must admit being in the sun is doing wonders for me."

"Is there anything we could have done for you? I do not like seeing you so sad."

"I'm afraid not, Edith. But do not fear, I believe that I am coming to a better understanding of my emotions. It shall not be so bad again."

"As long as you know I am willing to help you."

"I do know. I feel incredibly guilty for worrying you so."

"Oh, Margaret! You do not need to feel guilty for something that isn't your fault."

"Thank you, Edith."

Their outing continued in a much more light-hearted manner, ending at the shops not far from home. Edith could not pass by without a look inside, and Margaret followed in good humour.

While Edith was in raptures over a pretty silk, Margaret wandered to the back of the shop where the more durable (and far less expensive) fabrics were displayed. As she stood there she became aware of a conversation happening down the next row.

"…delayed a bit, but the Milton manufacturers have rallied as they always do. We've just had a delivery come in from Hamper's Mill, I imagine Marlborough Mill is not far behind, they usually arrive within a day of each other."

"Very good, Jones. Let me know when the next lot come in and…"

The voices drifted away from her and she could not quite believe that she had heard. She knew that Marlborough Mills would have customers up and down the country, but to know that the very shop Edith and she had used for several years got its wares from Mr Thornton shocked her. Somehow, Milton did not feel all that far away in that moment.

Edith found her still stood there a few minutes later and led her back to the carriage. Before they boarded, Margaret caught site of the bookshop on the corner and begged for a few moments to indulge herself. Edith was obviously happy to consent and allowed herself to be pulled through the shelves.

Once Edith meandered away, Margaret set her sights to the informative tomes hiding away from the fiction Edith favoured. There, Margaret set about finding all she could on industry. Soon enough, Edith found her, and Margaret quickly purchased the most recently written volume on the expansion of industry in the north of England. Edith did not question her choice of reading material (perhaps because Margaret purposefully hid the title) and eventually they arrived home, happy to relax until dinner.

Margaret took the chance to delve into her book and later emerged for dinner wondering how she had ever been able to dismiss Mr Thornton's pride in his town. Even the small amount she had read showed her how vastly she must had underestimated the power held in Milton. No wonder he had argued with her!

Her notions of superiority were painful to remember, especially as she held herself above Mr Thornton for being a manufacturer, but not above Higgins, who merely worked for him. How frustrated Mr Thornton must have been with her, constantly arguing over things she had never understood.

She dearly wished for an excuse to visit Milton but could not foresee ever getting the opportunity. She could not go alone, and it was unlikely she would find anyone willing to take her. Margaret resigned herself to feeling regretful of her behaviour and joined her family that night in much higher spirits than she had previously.

Later, as they were all gathered in the parlour, the Captain addressed her.

"Well Margaret, you seem much better today."

"Yes, I am feeling far more alive than I have in previous days. I hope the worst of it is over."

"Well you seem to be on the up and out so let's hope you continue to be so."

Margaret smiled at it him.

"Now Margaret, really I have come with a secret motive. You must tell me of your life in Milton. If I am to seriously look into investing, I must know everything about the people there."

"You want to hear of Milton?"

"Yes, everything you can tell me. The best way to deal with people is to learn about them. That's why we have spies in the army."

"So you want me to be your spy?" Margaret found this idea amusing and was not opposed to it.

"Yes indeed! You have been behind enemy lines, Margaret. You can tell me all the little secrets they would not expose to someone when they want their money."

Margaret laughed. "They are not your enemy!"

He joined her laughter. "Perhaps not, but they want what's in my purse and that must be protected with my life."

"Well, what is it you wish to know? I will do my best to answer your questions."

"Excellent! Tell me your opinion of the masters. Are they trustworthy? Are they good men? I know how highly you think of Mr Thornton, do the other masters measure up?"

"I honestly did not have as much to do with the other masters as I did with Mr Thornton. I have met them all of course, but they did not make much of an impression. The workers did not think much of them. They owned Mr Thornton to be fair but would not say the same for the other masters."

"Hmmm… so they are not admired by their workers?"

Margaret laughed. "Would you admire a man you had to call 'Master'? A lot of the men are treated unfairly. I am not surprised that admiration is lacking."

"But they admire Mr Thornton?"

"No, I would not say they admire him, more like a grudging respect. They dislike him due to his position but know that he will be just. He is firm but honest."

"I remember you mentioning the wheel. What were the other master's reasons for not installing one?"

"It is not cost effective. It is a large amount of money with no immediate or apparent return. Mr Thornton claims it to be a long-term investment, but the others disagree."

"And what do you think?"

"I cannot say. All I know is that Mr Thornton's mill is safer to work in because of it. If that is not a good enough reason to install one, I do not think much of your ability to look after your workers."

"You have a great interest in the workers."

"They were my friends. And I do not think the other masters particularly liked me. It makes sense that I would want the best for my friends."

"You are right. It does make sense to want that."

Margaret fell silent for a moment. "I am sorry I did not pay more attention to my father's discussions while I was in Milton. I would be able to answer your questions about the mills if I had."

"It is no matter! If I wanted to know of their trade I would simply ask. No, I wish to know of their character before I approach them. A man with a good character is less likely to cheat me out of my money."

Their discussion continued some minutes longer before they all separated for bed.

The next day dawned with a letter waiting for Margaret. Scooping it up, she left for the garden and sat to read.

_Marlborough Mill_

_Miss Hale,_

_We are well here, thank you for your concern. It would seem that your permission to grant my son access to your letters has made him very happy. He asks that I write you that all is well at the mill and he is glad you are feeling better about your accord with your family. I too am glad that you have finally been able to express yourself and now have their support. It will make things much easier to have them there._

_We both accept your apology for your behaviour in Milton. I admit that it must be difficult to come from a place that is the opposite of Milton in every way. I imagine I would be rather judgemental should I be forced away from my home here and deposited in your village, away from everything that I know. _

_It is clear that you have learnt from your mistakes and rethought your attitude. I cannot look down on someone who is willing to listen – no matter how long it may take them. To that end, you are young. You should allow your opinions to change. I do not advise you to be inconstant, but a hardened mind does not allow growth. You have shown a great capacity to grow, make sure you do not lose it in these difficult times._

_I hope you continue to feel better. You are likely to feel sadness for some time, but it is clear you shall be well enough._

_Yours,_

_Hannah Thornton_

Mr Thornton was happy! She had done that! She had made him happy. Her! All thoughts of guilt brought on by her behaviour to him were banished as she clutched her letter to her chest. He was happy! She did not realise that such contentment could be found in someone else's joy. Her feeling of elation carried her up the stairs to her to begin composing her reply. She forgot all about the sadness she had crumpled under that week, forgot all about the feud with Henry, and thought only about Milton.

She was grateful for Mrs Thornton's (and Mr Thornton's) forgiveness for her rudeness and was glad she could move on from her regrets. It was a freeing feeling to be released from her guilt, and a great weight lifted from her mind.

She almost worried that she would have nothing to say to Mrs Thornton now she felt secure in her emotions, but before she could worry about making inconsequential small talk, she caught the corner of her new book peeking out from under her pillow. Margaret had continued reading it the previous night and now found her curiosity was aroused. She was sure that Mrs Thornton would not mind questions about Milton, and so set out to fill the gaps in her knowledge.

_Harley Street_

_Mrs Thornton,_

_Thank you ever so much for your acceptance. It means more than I can articulate here. You were right about experiencing grief. I have found that at times I am unable to stop myself sinking into despair. Thankfully I am coming to understand my emotions and I hope, in time, to be able to bring myself out of such a state with more ease. Rest assured, I am well, I merely miss my life as it was._

_I hope all remains well in Milton. My cousin's husband has been asking all kinds of questions that I cannot answer about the industry there. His questioning has led me to start reading and I must admit that I wish I had listened far more carefully to Mr Thornton and my father when they used to discuss business. I know hardly anything – something I can barely believe considering how long I lived in Milton!_

_My reading has led me to other aspects of the industry I had never considered before. I find myself fascinated by the canals. Such structures – all man made! The vast size of these pathways amazes me. And the locks! I never could have imagined such ingenuity would exist merely for the sake of transporting goods. The concept of sailing a boat over a mountain range astounds me._

_Does Marlborough Mill make use of the canal that runs through Milton? I sincerely regret not taking you up on your offer of a tour of the mill. I feel remarkably silly for neglecting such an opportunity. I can see now why my father spent as much time speaking of business as he did philosophy, and now understand Mr Thornton's pride in the advancement of the technologies used in Milton. It is worthy of the most profound respect. Please Mrs Thornton, if you have time, could you enlighten me on the process in the mill? For all the time I spent with the workers, I have very selfishly refused to understand what part they played in that great machine._

_Please give my regards to Mr Thornton. I hope you both remain well._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Margaret Hale_

Letter sealed and sent, Margaret went about her day as usual. She passed the next week agreeably and enjoyed the weather as her strength returned. Her interest in her book never waned and it was a few days after she finished it that she received a reply for Mrs Thornton. Once she was sequestered away from her family, she pulled her letter open. This one seemed far heftier than her previous correspondence, and she was surprised to see that this reply contained a second letter folded up inside the first. Curiosity piqued, she began the first letter.

_Marlborough Mill_

_Miss Hale,_

_I am glad you are well and recovering from your latest brush with sadness. You are obviously a strong young woman, you will be perfectly able to handle your distress when it comes on again I am sure._

_As to your request for more knowledge, I am happy to oblige your questioning. In this instance however, I feel that others may be able to inform you of what you want to know far better than I. If, in this instance, I have gone too far, you need only say, and it will not happen again. _

_My son and I are well._

_Yours faithfully,_

_Hannah Thornton_

Brow furrowed, Margaret picked up the second letter. Why would Mrs Thornton feel she had gone too far? What on earth could she mean by it? The outside of the letter offered her no clues. It was completely blank, and so Margaret pulled it open. It was written in a different hand to Mrs Thornton's, but Margaret did not take in any of the words. Her eyes immediately skipped to the bottom of the last of the pages and she gasped. It could not be! But there, clear as day, was the author's name and Margaret could only stare in shock.

John Thornton had written to her.

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Thank you for reading. For all of you who worried about how sad Margaret is, don't worry! The worst is over. Hopefully I don't make any more of you cry! Once again, I'm aiming for an update in about a month, but it all depends on how busy we are with work, so it may be closer to six weeks again.


	4. Chapter 4

Hello! I hope you're all well and coping with the upheaval in the world right now. Once again, thank you so much for all your kind reviews! They have been a huge motivation these past weeks, enough that this chapter finished a week sooner than I thought it would be! I hope you all enjoy this next instalment.

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_Miss Hale_

_Please forgive me the impudence of writing directly to you. If I have overstepped, you may simply ignore this letter and tell my mother you would prefer an accounting from her. If, however, you are willing to accept my words, I would be honoured to give you the answers you seek._

_I do indeed make use of the canal, but I do not use it to transport my finished goods. The trains are a much more expedient means to travel, especially to London, so we use them instead. The canal is used to transport coal barges from the pits outside Milton. It is much easier for a boat to move large amounts of coal than for horses to pull it on a wagon._

_We will often use it when bringing in the raw cotton we need. I have many different suppliers. Some will use the canals as it is easy enough to transfer the cotton from the boats at the docks in Liverpool onto the canal, which then comes straight by us. The canal is reliable. As long as the barges are kept in good condition, we rarely have issues receiving our goods. Even in the worst weather, as long as the cotton makes it to Liverpool, it will reach us. Roads cannot be relied upon in the same manner. We do not, as yet, have roads that are usable all year round, and we find that material being transported by the road is likely to be late._

_As to your admiration of the canals, I can only find myself agreeing with you. One hundred years ago, the thought of crossing the Pennines on a boat would have made you a candidate for Bedlam. Now it is merely a fact of life._

_We have a vast network of canals connecting many of the major cities to each other. We are fortunate to have such a useful link to our suppliers and it is no wonder, when you think about it, that large cities have grown next to canals. They provide a fast, sure way to make our product._

_As to the actual making, you have seen inside my mill. You have at least seen the weaving rooms and packages of raw cotton. We begin with the raw cotton. It needs separating and cleaning but because the workers are pulling the cotton apart it fills the air with fibres. I am sure you remember my response to the worker smoking in my mill. If he had dared smoke in the carding rooms, the risk of fire would have been far greater. It was an accidental fire in one these rooms that set a whole mill ablaze a few years ago. In barely a minute the whole carding room was lost. It took a little under half an hour for the rest of the mill to perish._

_Once the cotton has been clean and straightened it is spun into yarn. We start with four thick spools of cotton that come from the carding machines. This yarn is as thick as maybe three or four of your fingers. It is then spun together to create the incredibly fine yarn that we use for weaving. It takes an amazing amount of power to spin the threads together, but it is a remarkably quick process to what it was one hundred years ago. We make it quite literally hundreds of times faster. What used to take a year to spin can now be done in a matter of days._

_Once the yarn in spun we begin to weave. You have seen the looms, I am sure you can appreciate the power found in that one room alone. Once the cloth is done, it needs to be finished. Some mills send the material for bleaching. We have the ability to do that here. Once the cloth is white it will be sent to the customer. Some of our customers buy the whitened product direct from us. Some will use an intermediary to dye the cloth to whatever specification they require. Some mills, like Hampers, can dye their cloth certain colours themselves, but his range of colour is not extensive, and I find that I am able to haggle a better price with a dye factory than he due to my assurance of requiring their services._

_This is what I would have shown you on a tour of my mill. If you have any questions you are welcome to write directly to me. If you place your letter inside one to my mother, she will give it to me. I am required to warn you, however, that she retains the right to read any letter we send. It was one of her conditions to agree to allow this (although I will say she is unlikely to demand to see my correspondence) in an attempt to ensure what we say is strictly business as I promised._

_That being said, I do believe some conversation can be excused. It would not do to treat a business partner so coldly if you wish to create a good working relationship. So, and of course I mean this purely as a work colleague, how are you Miss Hale? I have read of your struggles, I dearly hope you are through the worst of it._

_At the risk of adding to you burdens, your father is greatly missed here. Not only by myself. It seems he was valued rather highly by is other students; I have heard that some of the boys refused to settle for quite some time with their new tutors. Some of their father's are despairing that they ever will._

_I must thank you again for giving me your father's Plato. I am grateful for the comfort it has brought me, knowing that I have something to remember him by. He was a great friend of mine and I miss our conversations. Rest assured he has not been forgotten. And neither has your mother. I visit her grave when I can, and I am not the only one. I have seen Higgins and his daughter there several times now. They ask after you frequently. I have told them you are well, but if you would like me to pass on something more specific I will gladly do so. _

_I will admit that I have assumed you will read this far, please forgive my presumption, and I do hope you will be willing to reply. Even if it is short (and of course business like, we cannot have my mother thinking we would dare speak of anything more interesting than the belt that snapped yesterday) I would be overjoyed to receive it._

_If you have indeed read to this point, thank you, and I hope you have not been offended by my actions._

_Yours,_

_John Thornton_

Margaret was in shock. She collapsed backwards on her bed and stared in wonder at the ceiling. She had expected _Mrs _Thornton to tell her of the mill. And for her to allow Mr Thornton to write, much less actually send it for him hidden away in her letter - it beggared belief!

If it had been anyone else to do such a thing she would reject them out of hand. But Mrs Thornton! Surely, she would not allow it if she thought it wrong. Margaret admitted to herself that she had been wishing for the excuse to speak directly to Mr Thornton for some time now, and that he would take the chance to do so filled her with joy. She realised that she was smiling - far wider than she had done for quite a while.

Clutching the letter to her chest she let out a breathless laugh. Mr Thornton had written to her! Oh, it was improper, but she could not care. She scrambled up to her drawers and pulled out the first letter she had received from Mrs Thornton with Mr Thornton's thanks on the end of it. At the time she was determined to find comfort in it. Now, holding several pages of his words, Margaret was overwhelmed by how happy she was. She imagined Edith would find her quite silly, laughing over an accounting of the process of cotton manufacturing, but it did not stop the joy coursing through her.

She was certain he was joking at times throughout it, and the thought that he would make such an effort to be playful despite the serious tone of the rest made her laugh again. She could imagine him smiling at his mother as he assured her it was purely business.

But did she dare reply? She must certainly reply to Mrs Thornton, but could she take the chance and reply to Mr Thornton as well? If she did not, she might lose her only opportunity to do so. She must either pretend she had never received any such letter or respond in a way that hid her eagerness for his words while still offering the encouragement he needed to continue the correspondence.

In that moment she knew what she would do. Settling at her writing desk, she pulled her pen and paper close and considered her words. It took most of the morning, but eventually she was satisfied.

_Harley St_

_Mrs Thornton,_

_Thank you for your letter. Please allow me to assure you that you have not gone too far. I will not waste the opportunity you have provided me, neither will I abuse the trust you given me. You are more than welcome to any correspondence I send, no matter what name it may be addressed to. It is the least I can do in the face of the kindness you have shown me. _

_Are you well, Mrs Thornton? I must admit that I occasionally feel stifled by the heaviness of the smog that sits over London. In Milton I could walk up into the hills and escape into cleaner air. Have you been up on those hills? I found the prospect fascinating. Milton looked so small from up there. Even from that distance it was clearly a busy city. _

_I find that London is busy in a different way. We are too far from the manufacturing districts to be caught up in the traffic from there, but the streets here heave with people all through the year. While we are not currently in the midst of the season there are less people about, but the streets are no less full. I struggle sometimes to remain heartened in the face of so many. _

_In Milton I knew when to avoid the streets and could escape to that nearby bit of country. Here I am forced to endlessly circle parks. In Helstone I was surrounded by constantly by green, but that colour feels very difficult to come by here (unless you consider that ghastly, unnatural colour that has become all the rage these past few years a suitable replacement) and I find I miss Milton for the chances I had to sit above the noise when I needed to._

_Thank you, again, Mrs Thornton. I owe you a great deal._

_Yours, with gratitude,_

_Margaret Hale_

She tucked a second letter into the first.

_Mr Thornton,_

_Thank you ever so much for your letter. It has been very informative. I do, however, have a few questions, if you do not mind answering?_

_I know I may seem silly to ask this, but I find myself confused by your ability to haggle with the dying company. If you are reliant on them, does that not mean that they are able to control the prices they set? Forgive my ignorance, but I assumed the power here would lie with the supplier of the goods. In the same vein, I would have thought that not being reliant on the business would give Hamper the opportunity to challenge them. If he does not need them, surely it is upon them do what they can to keep his custom? Have I misunderstood? I do not say this to be argumentative! Please do not think I doubt you. I merely wish to learn._

_As for the canals, I find I am still more fascinated by them. Man made rivers large enough to provide such an essential service to the industry! I can still hardly comprehend the sheer size of these structures. Truth be told, I would dearly love to see the locks over the Pennine hills. The idea of sitting on a boat as you climb a mountain is so ridiculous it makes me laugh! And yet it is a reality!_

_Thank you for your explanation of the mill. I still feel regret that I never took the chance to see it properly while I was in Milton. Tell me, is the carding room as noisy as the weaving room? I have never heard so much noise in my life! The loudest thing we heard in Helstone was the occasional bout of thunder, and that did not rumble for hours like your mill does._

_May I also ask about your preference for using the trains to transport your goods? I am aware that the canal system is not extensive enough to carry your product to the south, but surely it is far more expensive to pay for the trains to carry it? Do the risks of the roads truly outweigh the cost? I fear I should have listened far more closely to your discussions with my father. I would have a far greater understanding of this if I had._

_I realise this is a very long letter, but I find that I still have much to say. Thank you, ever so much, for your kind words about my father. I do not think I thanked you properly for your actions when we took out leave. It was the only time I did not feel completely alone for quite a long while. I hope you do not hold my outburst that day against me. And I hope my explanation of my actions at the train station was enough to pardon me. I did not like that you thought ill of me. Can I hope that you think a little better of me? Enough for us to be good work colleagues perhaps?_

_I certainly hope I have been business like enough to be allowed to continue our correspondence. I know it is not done. If it were not for the respect I hold for your mother I would doubt the endeavour entirely. As it is your mother that has enabled this, I trust that all shall be well. Thank you for taking this chance. It means more to me than you can know. _

_It brings me great comfort to know that my mother is not forgotten. Please thank Nicholas and Mary for me. Tell them I am thinking of them and miss them. And I must also thank you for none of this would be possible without your help._

_I feel I must close. I think this may be the longest letter I have ever written!_

_Thank you for you time, Mr Thornton. I am most grateful._

_Your new business partner,_

_Margaret Hale_

_P.S. Perhaps we should discuss the snapped belt just in case we were not business like enough. I should hate to lose my new work colleague because we did not speak of terribly boring matters are great length._

Letters sealed away, Margaret had a brief moment of anxiety. What if her family caught her? Edith would most likely find it all very romantic. She did not believe her aunt would take it well should she find out, but her aunt was not particularly bothered about her affairs, so it was unlikely that it would ever come up. The captain would probably not think it his place to tell her off should he ever find out, and so Margaret felt she was safe from censure. As long as no servant observed her unusually weighty letter she would not receive notice. Reassured, Margaret sent out to have it posted and joined her family.

The first few days after she sent it off Margaret was almost jittery, despite her resolve that all would be well. She felt the same as she did when she was hiding Fred away from the world; unsettled and anxious. But as the days went on, and she heard no whispers from the servants, she allowed herself some release from the guilt that she carried for her secret.

She reaffirmed to herself that Mrs Thornton would not allow for anything too improper to happen (despite being convinced to somehow send the letter in the first place) and told herself to stop this moral struggle she had placed on herself. The letter was sent. She could not take it back, and she was unsure if she would, even if she could.

That night she came to a decision. She would tell Edith. Having at least one person know her secret (and hopefully not disapprove) would surely lessen her burden, and then she would not be constantly worried about being found out.

The next day she pulled Edith away from her daily duties (mainly lounging and thinking about what dinners she could plan) and asked to speak in private. Edith consented happily, glad that, even if Margaret was upset, she would willingly come to her. Margaret convinced her to walk out to the nearest park without a footman attending them where she could be sure of no hidden listening ears and prepared herself for the conversation.

"Thank you for agreeing to this, Edith. I know my secrecy is strange."

"Not at all, Margaret. You know you can tell me anything in confidence. And I have found that even loyal servants can be tempted to listen in. I do not blame you for leaving the house."

Margaret sighed. She knew that she wanted to tell Edith, but she could not help but worry. Would she be disappointed in her? She would hate it if she was.

Edith reached out and took her hand. "Margaret, you look worried. Are you well?"

Suddenly, Margaret found the courage to bare all.

"Oh, Edith! I fear I may have done something very wrong, but I still wish to continue. I am never normally unsure of my actions but this time I cannot decide!"

"Margaret! Surely you can't have done something that bad! You never do anything wrong."

"I may have this time. I am so conflicted."

Edith squeezed the hand she held. "Come now, Margaret, please don't distress yourself. Tell me what you have done, and I will reassure you that you have done nothing that you can get in trouble for."

Margaret took a deep breath to calm herself.

"I have written a letter to Mr Thornton."

Shocked silence met her confession. She began babbling, her nerves forcing her to fill the quiet.

"It was only to ask about the canals and his mill. I do not want to be improper but I dearly wish to understand and who better than he to ask? Books do not explain everything in such a way that it is clear and I would never have allowed it if Mrs Thornton had not said she would be checking for mischief and-"

"Margaret!"

Margaret's rapid speech halted abruptly at Edith's call but she could hardly keep herself contained as she waited for Edith to speak.

"Margaret, did you say Mrs Thornton knows? Has allowed this?"

She bowed her head, feeling ashamed. "Yes. Mr Thornton assured me-"

"Mr Thornton has written you back?!"

Margaret looked closely at Edith. Far from the censure she feared, all she could see in Edith's face was excitement. She practically trembled with it as she waited for a reply.

"Mr Thornton wrote to me first."

Edith gasped. "Oh Margaret! He really wrote to you?"

"Yes. I admit I was shocked at first but he wrote all about what I wished to know. Oh, Edith, is it wrong for me to be happy about this? I know it is improper, but I dearly wish for it to continue! I have not heard of my friends in Milton for so long and he speaks so well of my father. I do not wish to lose his friendship."

Margaret stared down at her hands. If Edith was firmly against this she would certainly have to stop writing, no matter how much she longed for that connection. And what would Mr Thornton think? For her to encourage him and then so cruelly cut contact, it pained her more than she thought it would. Even the concept of Mr Thornton being unhappy, especially unhappy because of her, hurt her deeply. But she could not hide from Edith, and if she disapproved, it would be below her to be purposefully deceitful. Leaving her family in ignorance certainly felt a great deal better than having to hide from a knowledgeable Edith. Perhaps this outing was not for the best. She should not have –

"It is so romantic!"

Margaret blinked.

"Oh, Margaret! To think that he wishes to speak with you so much that he will allow his mother to read his private correspondence! He must be very much in love with you still."

She attempted to respond but could only stammer inarticulately.

"Do you have the letter?" Edith was eagerly tugging at her hands. "May I read it? Oh I wish I had had the opportunity for hidden letters." She sighed. "But then I suppose that would mean I would have been very far away from my dear Captain." She looked wistful for a moment before remembering her purpose. "Well, Margaret? Did you bring it out with you?"

Margaret nodded and pulled it out of her pocket. She still could not speak. Edith happily took it from her and opened it without so much as a by your leave and began reading. Margaret watched as her smile dropped into confusion. Edith glanced up at her.

"Canals?"

Margaret nearly laughed at her bewilderment. "I did say I had questions only he could answer. And Mrs Thornton made him promise he would only write about business."

"But surely he does not only speak of his mill!"

This time Margaret did laugh. "I am the one who asked. And you have not read the whole thing yet."

Edith raised an eyebrow at her, but continued to read nonetheless. When she finished she folded the letter and looked to Margaret as if to speak, before pulling the letter open again. Margaret stifled a giggle at the intensity in her expression and sat quietly until Edith had finished.

"He speaks well of your father."

"Yes. They were very good friends."

"And Aunt? Was she good friends with the Thorntons?"

"She was too unwell to really be able to go out and properly make new acquaintances. But she was very grateful to Mr Thornton for all his help." Margaret paused for a moment, considering. "And she must have respected Mrs Thornton a great deal for she asked her to look out for me after her death."

Edith was quiet for a moment. "I had not realised your family was quite as close as that. It seems rather silly of me now, after the way you spoke of them."

"It is not your fault. I imagine my earliest letters allowed for a much harsher picture than the one I eventually came to see."

Edith rallied herself. "Well, whatever I thought of him at one point, I must say I certainly like him now. He is surely still in love with you!"

"Edith!" Margaret blushed. "How can you think that?"

"Come now, Margaret. Why would he write to you in the first place if he did not care for you?"

"He cares for me only as my father's friend."

"Nonsense." Margaret was surprised by the normally placed Edith being so firm. "He certainly did not care for you as your father's friend when he proposed."

Margaret stammered, "My reputation-"

"Was unharmed. He did not need to ask you to marry him. His words made that clear."

"He was merely doing his duty."

Edith scoffed. "Utter tripe."

Margaret sat back in befuddlement. This was not how she had expected the conversation to go.

"Margaret," Edith softened, "I tell you this with the greatest love in the world, but you really are completely oblivious to men who want to marry you."

Margaret bit her lip. "I do seem to be making a habit of it, don't I?"

Edith gave her a wry look before they both collapsed into giggles. It took several minutes to compose themselves but eventually they were able to sit properly again.

"I feel quite silly, Edith. I was worried you would tell me to cut contact with the Thornton's for this."

"Of course not! This is all quite exciting. Have you replied?"

She nodded. "Yes, the same day it arrived. I refused to allow myself to consider the impropriety of writing to Mr Thornton and just did it."

"Did you speak more of canals?" Edith had an eyebrow raised. "Surely you spoke of something other than mills and cotton."

Margaret flushed. "I had more questions I wanted answering."

"Margaret! You have an opportunity to write to a man that loves you and you insist on writing about business?!"

"Mrs Thornton may read any letter she wishes."

"He said she would not."

"But we do not know that. What would she think of me if she caught me encouraging Mr Thornton? It took me long enough to earn her good opinion, I do not wish to throw it away."

"Do you _want _to encourage Mr Thornton?"

Margaret looked away, gazing out over the park. _Did_ she want to encourage Mr Thornton? She wanted to be his friend, certainly. And she craved his good opinion, desired his respect. Did she want more than that?

"I do not know, Edith."

"But you are not set against him completely?"

She considered it. If he were – against all odds – to propose, would she reject him again?

"No. I am not set against him."

Edith clapped gleefully. "Oh Margaret! Do you love him? You like him a great deal and you obviously trust him to reveal Frederick's actions to him."

Margaret was becoming flustered. She could not rationalise her feelings for Mr Thornton. It was still difficult for her to perceive herself as someone who would be noticed by men in a way they admired and she struggled to reconcile that she was, indeed, admired. Henry's admiration she dismissed. She did not believe he could truly care for her the way she wished to be cared for by a husband.

She had pushed away from Mr Thornton's declaration of love, but now she tried to consider it in the spirit it was given. Could she receive his attentions and be happy? Did she want them?

"I do not know, Edith. I have never been in love. I would not know where to start."

"Oh Margaret, you are thinking too much! You are already friends with him, you like him immensely, do you really feel nothing more than friendship for him?"

"I am unsure. I would like his good opinion. I was wretched when I thought he hated me! But I respect him a great deal. He is an excellent man, Edith."

"Then is it so hard to imagine him as your husband?"

Margaret turned away, face red. "It is not so hard, no." She whispered.

Edith tugged on her hand. "Think on it, Margaret. He has done a lot for you and I firmly believe he cares for you. I would not want you to be caught out should be renew his offer."

"Edith…" Margaret could not help the worry that coloured her tone. "I do not want to hope for something that might not happen."

Edith embraced her. "It can be hard to love someone, I am not blind to other marriages. I know I had an easy courtship. But you are different, Margaret, you struggle with idleness. You would not be happy with an easy life the way I am. Fight for him."

"I cannot bear anymore disappointment. What if I lose him?"

"Then you move on. But Margaret, these are not the actions of a man who will allow himself to be lost. He could have accepted that you were in London and left it there. Instead, he finds a way to contact you and wants you to reply. You have already caught. Let him catch you."

Margaret hooked her arm through Edith's and laid her head on her shoulder.

"You seem far too wise lately, Edith. How can you see this so clearly?"

"Love makes fools of us all." She would not allow Margaret to protest the notion. "Consider what I have said. I think he will make you very happy."

Margaret sighed. "I do not deserve you, Edith."

"Nonsense. You need someone to tell you to stop thinking and simply feel. That is what I shall do until you admit that you are in love with Mr Thornton."

"Thank you, Edith," Margaret laughed, "I cannot imagine how much I would brood without you."

"A great deal, I would think." Edith said blithely. She jumped up and pulled Margaret to her feet. "Come, I am hungry. It is time for tea."

They wended their way back home and enjoyed their afternoon tea with Aunt Shaw and the Captain. Edith soon decided that she had not seen her son nearly as much as she would wish, and so Margaret and Edith climbed the stairs together, laughing about what games they could play with little Sholto. Upon reaching the landing a maid hurried towards them.

"Pardon me, Miss. This letter came for you this morning, but it had fallen under the table."

Margaret and Edith exchanged glances.

"Thank you, Millie. I would not have spotted it."

The maid curtsied and rushed off, leaving Margaret and Edith to stare at the letter in her hand.

"Well?"

Margaret startled. "What?"

"Who is it from?"

She could tell by the weight of the paper that this letter contained more than the usual amount of pages. She checked the seal.

"It is from the Thorntons."

Margaret flinched at Edith's squeal.

* * *

I'm sorry for once again leaving the chapter with a Thornton letter teased! I hope you liked this chapter, and don't worry, the next chapter will definitely have more than one letter from our favourite mill owner :) Once again, four-six weeks is my aim for the next instalment, but it does all depend on how busy work gets these next few weeks (I'm classed as a key worker, so no extra time for writing I'm afraid). Otherwise, keep safe, and let me know what you think of this chapter!


	5. Chapter 5

Hello everyone! I'm so sorry this took so long. Don't worry, it's not abandoned! I hope you enjoy this next instalment, and thank you for all your lovely reviews.

* * *

"Open it, Margaret!"

"Come to my room, Edith. We will have less chance of being interrupted."

Once they were safely behind Margaret's door, Edith turned to her again.

"Has Mr Thornton written as well?"

"I assume so. Mrs Thornton's letters are never as long as this." She pulled at the seal.

"I do hope he speaks about something other than his mill."

"I did ask about the mill, Edith. And you know what he as promised."

Edith sighed. "Yes, yes, now get on with it! I want to know what he has written!"

Margaret pulled the letter open, gladdened when a second, thicker epistle fell out of the first. She reached for that one, unable to deny the urge to read his words before his mother's.

_Miss Hale,_

_First, I must thank you for not immediately throwing my letter in the fire. I am immensely glad that you read it and felt able to respond. My mother asked for an accounting of what you had written, but did not ask to read your letter, just as I thought she would not. I am, however, completely unable to lie to her, so she really need not read the whole thing to suspect when mischief is afoot. She knows me far too well I am afraid. But fear not, I have promised business, and business shall be the order of the day._

_Shall we start with the dye factory? You are right to think that it would make sense for me to lack the ability to haggle given my dependence on the factory, however, in this case the factory would lose more than I would, should I withdraw my custom. They are not he only dye factory in Milton, and they must stay competitive should they wish to keep my account. I do a great deal of business with them, and they are aware I could just as easily go elsewhere. That is what gives me the power here. They lose nothing should Hamper decide to use his own mill to dye his cloth as they have no surety of his custom, and so they make sure to get the most out of him when he does require their services._

_Does that explain it clearly enough? Do not fear asking questions of me, Miss Hale. As my newest and youngest business partner you may ask whatever you wish. I cannot abide dull minds and I could never censure your curiosity._

_As for the trains, mills have used trains to transport goods for far longer than trains have been used to transport people. You are right that it is more expensive than a cart, but it is immensely quicker, and the product is far less likely to fall off and become ruined because of a mere rut. We can also transport far larger quantities, which makes the expense less than sending several smaller loads. I have a ledger from a previous owner of the mill with his workings on the advantage of one method over the other. Should you like to see it, I will happily provide you with a copy._

_The carding rooms are indeed as loud as the weaving room. Due to the position of my mill, the carding rooms are the smallest rooms, and therefore can seem much louder when you are in them due to the confined space. Once outside, they are indistinguishable from the noise of the weaving room. They merely add to the din._

_Higgins was glad to hear from you. He bids me tell you that he, Mary, and the children are thinking of you. I must again thank you for sending him my way. He is an exemplary worker, and sharp as a tack. I can see why you are such good friends._

_I think we may safely say we have covered enough business for one letter. I would like, if it is not too much, to speak of your brother. I was exceedingly glad when you wrote your explanation of that night. It was certainly a great weight off my mind, knowing that what I thought you to be and what I thought I knew you to be could be reconciled in such a way that I could only think better of you. _

_I understand why you could not say anything to me at the time, and I am sorry my bitterness allowed me to treat you harshly. I told myself you would not behave in a way you deemed wrong, yet continued to act like you had indeed done something very wrong. It should be I asking for forgiveness, not the other way around. Please forget all my words. I am heartily ashamed I ever uttered them. And as I said when you left, I struggled to think badly of you, even when I convinced myself you could not be as truly good as I had presumed. I was happy indeed to allow myself to continue to think well of you._

_I will finish here, with an enquiry to your family's health. Is your cousin well? I am sure your nephew is more than well id he has you caring for him._

_Thank you for your reply, Miss Hale. I am glad indeed that you have not seen fit to tell me off for my daring._

_Your most willing, newest business partner,_

_John Thornton_

_P.S. I will save the story of the snapped belt for a time when we have less business to discuss. Be assured, it is as boring a tale as could be. We not receive a reprimand for speaking of it I am sure._

"Well?"

Margaret laughed. "Such impatience is unseemly, Edith. You are not so very ladylike right now!"

"Oh pish! Nothing here can be classed as proper behaviour so I am free from your strictures."

"You are very right, Edith. Mr Thornton writes of some other aspects of the cotton process that I asked about. I had questions about dying and transporting the product."

"Margaret!" Edith moaned, flopping gracelessly on the bed.

"What?" Margaret could not keep her amusement from her tone. "You knew it would be business, you cannot blame me for your expectations."

"Surely he speaks of more than that!"

"Fortunately for you, he does."

Edith gasped and sat up. Margaret smiled and handed her the letter.

"Just read it, Edith. And no more complaining about my questions. Without them he would never have written in the first place."

Edith gave her an impertinent look and happily grasped the pages. Margaret turned to Mrs Thornton's neglected letter and began to read, ignoring the murmurs coming from Edith.

_Marlborough Mill_

_Miss Hale_

_I thank you for your reassurance of good conduct. Truth be told, I should not like to take something from my son that gives him pleasure, and to have your promise that you will behave certainly helps with any misgivings I may feel. It is rather strange to be hiding something that could cause harm should it be discovered, but as long as we are careful (and you do indeed make use of this to ask your questions regarding industry), I will continue to allow it._

_We are both well here. I must agree with you about London, for on the very few occasions I have visited the city, I was struck by how smoky the place is actually is. It can be amusing to watch people attempt to excuse the smog over one city while blaming it for all manner of ailments in another. Who knew that London smoke was so much healthier than northern smoke?_

_I have indeed ventured up into those hills from time to time, however it has been a good many years since I have visited the tops. I believe John was still a boy the last time I went, for I took him with me to show him what he would one day be responsible for. This was before Fanny's birth, so he must have been around ten._

_We did live in the country for some time, but I doubt it was the same kind of countryside you are used to. It was a small town, a cheaper place to live, and we were surrounded by fields. There were no forests, and very little in the way of wildlife, excepting, of course, the livestock kept on nearby farms. After that quiet, unsure existence, I now appreciate being in the busy town far more than I did before. Being in Milton means security. I am happy to overlook its jostling streets for that._

_You are correct about the green. It is a ghastly colour._

_Yours, _

_Hannah Thornton_

That certainly gave her a great deal to think on, but before she could consider anything, Edith was asking her questions.

"Who is Higgins?"

"Higgins is a man whose daughter I befriended. He is a good man, if a little outspoken at times, and now take care of the children of a man who died due to the events of the strike a while back."

"Why does Mr Thornton thank you for sending Higgins to him?"

"Nicholas was a union leader. He did not get along with the masters and none of them would take him back after the strike. I convinced him to ask Mr Thornton for work. I knew that Mr Thornton would treat them fairly. At first he refused to take him on, but later found him to apologise for being rude and offered to employ him. Nicholas is very smart and I knew they could work well together, if they could only get past the idea of masters and unions being at odds."

"They must get along now."

Margaret laughed. "I would not be surprised if it was quite an antagonistic form of getting along. For all that they respect each other they are happy to disagree, I would think. I imagine Nicholas especially would take pleasure in riling up Mr Thornton."

Edith seemed amused by this, but her expression soon turned knowing.

"I think this letter proves he no longer dislikes you."

Margaret could not help flushing. "I am finding it hard to deny it now."

A giggle was the response she received.

"I still hold that it does not necessarily mean he thinks of me as anything more than a friend."

She was clearly not convincing Edith, but she let it go with a doubtful hum and stood.

"I really must see Sholto. I imagine you would like to reply and do not wish me sitting at you shoulder as you do so. But do let me know should you wish to finally confess your undying love for Mr Thornton, I certainly would like to see how you do it."

"Edith!"

Edith merely laughed and left her. It took a few minutes for the blush on her face to fade, and only once it did, did she feel composed enough to attempt a reply. She decided to write to Mrs Thornton first.

_Harley Street_

_Mrs Thornton,_

_Thank you for your enlightening letter. It never occurred to me that the city could hold an allure beyond that of convenience. But I must admit that I begin to think of Milton the same way. My family was whole for the last time in Milton, and, despite the circumstances, being brought together in Milton ensures a fondness of my home that I cannot overlook. Town does not hold the same memories that Helstone or Milton (no matter how much I love my cousin), and I consider them both home. I have nearly always spent my time in town wishing to be elsewhere. It does not engender loyalty in me. It is strange, wishing to elsewhere, but with such experience that I have in other places, I find it natural to not think of London as home, merely a stopping place until I move on again._

_I still feel extremely lucky to have gained your approval. I could not have blamed you for never replying to my first letter, but to allow what you have – I will be forever grateful. I know you do not necessarily do it for me, but I am still very glad of it._

_Thank you for allowing me a glimpse into your lives. I know it cannot be easy to talk of such a time._

_Yours, most gratefully,_

_Margaret Hale_

She set the letter aside and sat back. Before she could write her reply to Mr Thornton, Margaret needed to gather her thoughts. Mrs Thornton's letter gave her another view of that time in their lives when they lost everything. Mr Thornton had told her of his mother's efforts to keep them secure, but she never thought to know of Mrs Thornton's feelings of the time. Just admitting that Milton symbolised security told her how unstable her life must have been. Cast out of her home, with a small child and young boy to care for, Margaret could not imagine how she must have struggled.

Even with Mr Thornton working, setting aside enough money to save enough to pay back her husband's debts must have been an incredible test of her self-control. No wonder Mr Thornton admired her! With such an example of discipline in his home, it was somewhat clearer to Margaret now why he felt something that had seemed to her like contempt for the poor men who wallowed in their own misery.

The letter did make her wonder though, what kind of childhood he had had before the tragedy of his father. She was sure he was around fourteen when it happened. That gave him plenty of time for a young life unencumbered by sadness. What would he have been like as a boy? She wondered about his behaviour. Was he always good? He certainly shared a close bond with his mother, but had it always been like that? Or was it their shared experience that drew them together?

Deciding to set those thoughts aside to consider later, Margaret drew a new piece of paper towards herself, and began her letter.

_Mr Thornton,_

_Thank you ever so much for answering my questions. I did fear occasionally that you would think me impertinent for questioning your decisions, but I am glad that is not the case._

_I have found that you have answered my questions so well that I cannot think of anymore! What a poor business correspondent I am, filling two letters with questions and running out of things to talk of! This simply will not do. Do forgive me, I must stop and think of something before I continue. I have promised to speak of industry and so industry I must think of._

Margaret put her pen down. How could she not have thought this this far ahead? She had been too busy thinking of his past to think of his present, and now her letter must wait until she thought of something she could ask.

Letting her mind wander, she thought back to seeing him in the mill, king of his dominion, seeming so very powerful up on those walkways above the looms. Recalling his imposing presence set her to thinking about the time she caught him in his temper at the smoking worker. She certainly would not dare do such a thing, to think that this man had done it before and was willing to risk Mr Thornton's rage; he was either stupid or stupidly brave. Margaret could not decide which.

Finding no questions were coming to mind, Margaret resorted to using their post scripts as inspiration.

_I seem to have run dry of questions, Mr Thornton. Perhaps next time you could be so kind as to not answer so thoroughly – I would be much obliged. As it is, I think it is time you divulged your story about the snapped belt. I assume the looms were involved? I confess they are the only machines I have seen actually in motion so I am having some difficulty working out exactly what could have happened. _

_Perhaps you could explain how your workers use the looms? They seem dreadfully complicated to me, and yet to have so many working in such a regimental manner, the process must be rather simple. Do you find people get in each other's way a lot? I cannot imagine work goes smoothly if everyone is always tripping over one another._

_Have you seen Nicholas and Mary recently? I do so miss them and the children, will you let them know for me? Do you know how Mary gets on with teaching them all? I must admit that while I enjoyed my visits, I would find it exhausting to care for so many young children all day long. There is not very much I can do from all this way away, but if there is anything I can assist her with, will you tell me? I know they will not accept money, but if there is anything I can provide, I would dearly like to know. I feel so very useless here sometimes._

_I do thank you for your enquiry about my cousin, she is very well. I confess I have told her about our letters (I could not keep this from her and she finds it all rather good fun thankfully), but she will keep our secret quite happily. Sholto seems to grow by the day. He toddles about the house, frequently having escaped his nurse while her back is turned (that, or she is secreting herself away for sneaky naps – I find it remarkable how often Sholto is able to open the nursery door without her notice) and adventures to where he really should not be. The other day I caught him about to descend the stairs alone! I am grateful he is not my child for I would age far too prematurely if I had to raise him. He has his mother wrapped around his little finger (and his Auntie Magret though she does not care to admit it) and will surely get away with all manner of mischief when he is older._

_Is it always the case do you think? While I was loved very well by my parents, my mother undeniably favoured my brother over me (I did not resent either of them for it however), and allowed him a great many chances when he would traipse mud in the hall or get caught pestering a nearby farmer's chickens. Perhaps there is something to be said for mothers and sons._

_I am glad that my letter allowed you to finally think well of me. I confess I did hope it would. I could not bear the thought that you could have my explanation and still reject it. When I did not receive any reply for those first few weeks, I convinced myself to give up hope and move on. It was such a relief to receive your note in your mother's letter. I had not smiled so much in months. And as for your words, please consider them forgiven and forgotten. I could not hold such a thing against you when you are not to blame. My actions caused much grief, it is not your fault you were angry. Can we agree to put it behind us? I would shake on it except for the fact we are so very far apart._

_I have thought of a question to ask you, Mr Thornton, though it is not a business question. Please do not feel you have to answer this for it is personal at best, and deeply intrusive at worst._

_Do you remember what your father looked like? I am worried that the longer she has been gone, the more detail I forget about my mother. I fear losing her completely, and the thought of eventually beginning to forget my father fills me with anxiety._

_Forgive me, if you do not wish to answer. I do not know who else I could ask about something like this._

_I will end here. I look forward to your next letter._

_Yours,_

_Margaret Hale_

Margaret sat back, a little surprised at the wave of grief that assaulted her part way through her letter. When first faced with the prospect of forgetting her parents, she had decided to battle through alone. To ask Mr Thornton was forward. But then, he had hidden a letter away for her. She would just have to call them equal.

Letter sealed and sent, Margaret joined the rest of her family in the parlour. Upon sitting however, she found that Edith looked a little agitated.

"Are you well, Edith?"

"Oh yes, perfectly fine, thank you." She would not look her in the eye.

"Edith."

"Oh, very well. Henry has requested to call."

Margaret sighed. "I see."

"If he comes to apologise, will you hear him out?"

She did not want to, but her sense of fairness won out. This was, after all, his brother's home. He could not be barred indefinitely because of her.

"I will listen to what he has to say. But I will not forgive a meaningless apology."

"I would not expect you to, Margaret."

"Thank you, Edith. That makes this far easier to face."

"Do not fear. He shall have to apologise in front of all of us, so we shall see if he is sincere or not. We shall let him know he may come. He knows what is expected of him."

Margaret merely nodded. It was not how she supposed she would spend the evening, but having it out the way would allow her to move on and stop worrying about an accidental meeting.

Henry was invited to dinner under the assumption that what he had to say was satisfactory, and he arrived exactly at the appointed time. To Margaret, he did not appear affected when told he would say what he must in front of the whole family, but then she supposed as a lawyer he must be used to surprises in a public setting. He seemed to take in the room for a moment before deciding to sit across from her. He spoke directly to her, but did not presume to attempt to make the conversation private.

"Miss Hales, are you well?"

"I am well, Mr Lennox."

He waited for her to continue, but she had no intention of doing so. Until he made his apology she would treat him distantly and make no overtures of friendship. It may have been rude, but Margaret found that her patience for societal niceties had vanished, and wanted this done, one way or another.

After a moment of floundering, Henry began again.

"I have come to apologise, Miss Hale."

She remained silent, offering no encouragement.

"My behaviour has been unjust. You are correct, I have no right the direct your life, and should not have spoken to you the way I did. I was unpardonably rude, and I beg your forgiveness."

Margaret considered him, a regal head tilt giving her a queenly bearing.

"And what of my friends?"

"Pardon me?"

"What of my friends, Mr Lennox? You made no secret of your disdain for them."

"Oh. Well, it was wrong of me to speak of them so. I shall not do so again."

Margaret stared at him long enough that he began to look uncomfortable. When I began fidgeting, she asked another question.

"Are you not sorry for the way you spoke of my father?" Her eyes flashed as she spoke, and ever her aunt on the other side of the room could see him sweating. He appeared to look around the room for help, but none was forthcoming.

Taking a deep breath, Henry tried to look contrite.

"I am indeed sorry for the way I spoke of your father. He deserves only my respect and shall receive nothing less from now on."

Margaret nodded and turned away. She was not entirely satisfied, but could see that her family wanted her approval of him. She gave a slight tilt of her head to Edith, who turned to the captain and whispered in his ear. Upon his rising, Margaret stood and took his place on the settee by Edith. She would allow Henry forgiveness, but she would not immediately let him behave with her as he had. She truly felt like she did not know him well enough anymore to keep their previous friendship, and resolved to remain acquaintances until she could see that he meant his words.

Henry was allowed to remain for dinner but did not stay long after. He took his leave of all of them individually, saving Margaret for last. She remained stoic through his overture and he left crestfallen.

Relieved that he had finally gone away, Margaret let herself relax. Edith immediately began to speak of the evening.

"He was very civil."

The captain laughed. "He did not have much choice, my dear. He could hardly have come behaving as he did last time and not expect to be dragged out by the ear."

"I suppose. What did you think Margaret?"

"I think he was sorrier that he had to apologise than he was for anything he had done."

Edith looked shocked. "Do you really think so?"

"Yes. He has apologised, however, and so you may invite him as you wish, but I will not be able to treat him as I once did. We cannot be friends."

"Then I only hope his behaviour changes for the better."

Everyone agreed and conversation moved on to less fraught topics.

That night, Margaret could not help but lie awake considering the two men she had rejected. How different they were!

The one she had wronged apologised so sincerely for apparent misdeeds – when he need do nothing of the sort. The other was unable to see what he had done to wrong her. Every comparison she made had Mr Thornton come out as the victor. Henry was spiteful. Even when Mr Thornton was in a position to truly wound her he did not. He never let her family suffer for her actions. She could not say that Henry would have done the same. They had both been jealous (wrongly) but only one of their opinions had cut her to the quick. Even though Mr Thornton could not approve of her friendship with the workers, he never sought to prevent her from contact with them. It was clear that Henry would quite happily stop her from speaking of her friends in Milton, never mind actually contacting them.

Edith's words from earlier spun round her mind. She certainly could not deny that Mr Thornton now no longer hated her. She would quite happily go so far as to say he liked her, but would not hazard a guess to the degree. Her thoughts swirled as she considered what Edith had told her in the park earlier that day. Did she have the power to catch Mr Thornton? Did she want to? She thought back to his passionate proposal and could not help but compare it with Henry's. No man suffered from the delivery of their address, but both times she had felt helpless to stop what would only bring pain (although in both cases she admitted she did not believe either man felt a true love for her) and she tried to think on what she might do if either man asked her again.

Henry, she knew, would be rejected immediately. He did not love her the first time he proposed, and any affection she felt for him was currently being washed away by his lack of compassion and inability to tender a real apology. Mr Thornton was a trickier beast. Would she reject him? Although dismissive during his proposal, she now thought that she had been wrong to accuse him of not loving her. He did not think merely in terms of profit. He would not view her as a possession. She would certainly not reject him immediately. She shivered slightly at the prospect of being engaged to Mr Thornton. The memory of being held in his arms still brought her comfort, and the thought of having the right to be held by him whenever she pleased brought such a feeling of pleasure she wondered that she was even considering a future where she said no to a second proposal. Even in this hypothetical dream she did not like the idea of sending him away.

But did she love him? She was sure that she could only marry for love, and she was surprised that she would think of marriage without the certainty of her feelings. Her thoughts were becoming muddled. What set Mr Thornton apart from all the other men she knew?

She did not compare him to others, but rather thought on how others measured up to him. Did she know any other man who treated his mother with such respect? Did she know any other man who would treat a family unconnected with himself so kindly? Did she know any other man who had to bear such responsibility from a young age, who understood hard work and self-control, who would not look upon her wish to learn with scorn? She did not know any other man who could say yes to all these questions. She did not know any other man who could keep her lying awake as she did now, battling with her feelings. She surrendered to the thought that she cared deeply for him, and hoped beyond hope that it could be enough.

She fell asleep with thoughts of how eminently superior Mr Thornton was to the other men of her acquaintance.

* * *

I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. Once again my excuse is work! I thought it would get a bit easier but due to some unforeseen circumstances exactly the opposite has happened. I'm going for a hopeful 'things should calm down in a couple of weeks' which should give me more time, but I'm not going to give a time frame for now since I'm clearly useless at sticking to them! Rest assured, this story won't be abandoned (i've got it all planned out, just not written), so it just might take a little while for each chapter to appear. Please let me know what you think!


	6. Chapter 6

Hello again! I can only apologise for how long this has taken me! I hope you enjoy this next installment :D

* * *

Margaret went about her days as she usually did. Now that her grief had lessened she found it much easier to keep herself employed throughout the course of the day. She often helped Edith in her duties as mistress of the house, and while she still did not join her when calling on others, Margaret ensured she sat in on some of Edith's callers. She still found the inanity of it all somewhat frustrating, but was much better able to manage her feelings, and formed an amused resignation to her daily routine including these calls.

Fortunately she was not required to sit in on all of them, and since there was no one to call on her specifically, she was able to escape on days she did not feel particularly patient.

One day, a couple called on Edith and the captain. Margaret was already present and decided to stay and see what she might glean from the captain's conversation. Mr and Mrs Keely were an amiable couple. Margaret thought Mrs Keely somewhat air headed, but could not fault her manners, and so generally enjoyed her visits. Mr Keely had a keen mind, not as closed off as other gentlemen she knew, and looked forward to listening in on his conversations when he caught the captain at home. Thankfully this was one of those occasions.

"Well, Edith, have you heard the news? It is said that Miss Dean is engaged to Mr Edling! I should never have guessed it, although I do remember seeing them dance at the Jeffrey's ball a few weeks ago and I did think then what a handsome couple they made! Of course it is no surprise…"

Margaret let the rest of the words wash over her. While truly a lovely lady, Mrs Keely did like to gossip. It was never malicious, but it was more than just the sharing of news. Keen to miss the dissection of the relationship of two people she had never met, she turned her attention to Mr Keely and the captain.

"..it looked to be a fair prospect but I found the risk far outweighed the reward. Only those with a truly disposable income should think of investing in something that uncertain. I could afford the losses but at the present moment I would much rather prefer not to."

The captain saw her listening in on the conversation and invited her to join them.

"Margaret probably knows far more than I do on the matter. She lived in Milton until very recently."

"Ah of course! I had forgotten it was Milton that you lived, Miss Hale. Tell me, did you ever hear of the speculation regarding the rail road?"

Margaret inclined her head. "I did indeed. I am unsurprised that you turned down the opportunity to gamble your money there. It was a good cause for debate in Milton."

"I take it you know the mill owners?"

"I have met them all, but my father was great friends with Mr Thornton."

"Thornton, eh? Never known a straighter man than him. He is unbelievably honest when it comes to his investors. He never sugar-coats his methods. You always know what you're getting if Thornton is involved."

The captain seemed surprised by this estimation of Mr Thornton. "Margaret had told us he is honourable but I never imagined to hear praise from you as well. How small the world seems to be!"

"How do you know Mr Thornton, may I ask, Mr Keely?"

"My father did business with Marlborough Mill's predecessor. It seemed natural to continue the relationship when Thornton took over and my father died. I knew he would be a sensible investment, what with him ensuring his father's debts were payed off. I like men who take their responsibilities seriously. He refused to speculate, did he not?"

"Yes he refused. Much to the confusion of the masters, I might add."

"Only half a wit between the lot of them. Thornton might be the youngest of them, but he certainly has more about him. He, at least, understands long term investments and does not expect money in his pocket immediately. The others cannot see the bigger picture usually."

"I did notice, that although he is clearly respected, they do seem to disregard some of his methods."

"Indeed. Has he told you of the wheel?"

"He has. I think it a very good thing."

"Then we may be the only three that do. He was mocked viciously when he first had it installed."

"That seems very unfeeling on the other master's part. No matter his reasons for installing it, if it can protect the workers somewhat, should that not be a cause for its success."

"My thoughts exactly. Did Thornton explain why he had it put in?"

"Oh yes. He spoke about the long term benefits associated with training less workers because his live longer in comparison."

"And what did you think of his explanation?"

"That he merely wishes to hide that he does not want his workers dying when he could prevent it quite easily."

Mr Keely's eyes sparkled. "You have caught him out. He gave you his sales pitch – a rather successful sale pitch, I might add. But ultimately that wheel was put in to protect the people working in those rooms and for no other reason. The nonsense about long term investments came after."

"I knew it!" Margaret flushed at her outburst. "Pardon me. I simply meant that it was clear in his dealings with the men that he does not merely care for his profits."

Mr Keely laughed. "You need not pretend to not be smug with me. For all that he is honest, he is a wily beast when it comes to his motives. That you saw through him surprises me. Were you often in his company?"

"Quite often. As I said, he and my father were great friends. He did a lot for us when we were in Milton."

"Well, it is always good to find you have a friend in common. Did you know his sister well? I imagine you are around the same age."

"I am afraid I did not see as much of Mrs Watson. I do correspond with Mrs Thornton frequently though. She gave my mother a great deal of comfort."

"May I tell you a secret, Miss Hale?"

Margaret nodded.

"Mrs Thornton terrifies me!"

She could not help laughing. "She is not so scary, sir. Have you done something to offend her?"

"Not that I know of, but she always seems so stern that I cannot help but feel chastised."

"Oh she is not that bad. You just need to get to know her properly."

"I shall leave the getting to know her to you, and hide behind her son whenever I visit. Now, has my wife finished her stories yet? I believe we have an urgent appointment at the haberdashery that I was told simply could not be missed."

Mr and Mrs Keely took their leave, and Margaret went to her room to think on her conversation. Truly all it did was make it clearer how good Mr Thornton was. He merely played the overbearing master. She was glad of the Keely's visit, if for no other reason than she has not heard anything new of Milton for quite some time. With only two correspondents in Milton, her capacity for news was somewhat limited. Still, she was grateful to find a business associate of Mr Thornton who also thought him trustworthy. She was happy to hear something good of him.

Taking out her letters her locked chest, he reread Mr Thornton's. How could there be so few, yet it feel like she had always been writing to him? It seemed such a natural thing to do that her initial shock at receiving a letter from him now seemed silly. She wondered at the possibility of becoming proper correspondents, with the disguise of business. She had certainly written for less of business in her letter than she did previously and she had worried for a few short moments that he would not want that kind of correspondence, before pushing those thoughts away and thinking of the positives. He may yet reply than even less business than she had sent. She would simply have to wait.

Placing her letters back in their hiding space, Margaret readied herself for her daily walk. She found that the parks no longer seemed as confining, now that she was in a position to enjoy nature again. It had taken her the few months she had been in London to grow used to the tamed hedgerows and manicured lawns. But she could appreciate the flowers that grew along the paths and no longer resented having to circle continuously in order to fulfil her need for exercise. Margaret missed the challenge of the hills in Milton and the clean calmness of the forests in Helstone, but still was able to enjoy being in the outdoors in town.

She pondered the direction of her life as she strolled. While she certainly had never imagined her situation being what it was now, it took her some time to realise that anything she had previously considered as perhaps being her future, had now been cast aside. She had changed so much in the years she had lived in Milton that her life before seemed a world away. Back in Helstone she had no thought she had no thought of how she would eventually leave her parent's home. Now they had left her instead, and she may have the opportunity to take that next step in her life, she felt lost. Her parents had been unable to watch their son marry, and neither of them would know of her future family. It saddened her, but did not cause the same distressing that agony that thoughts of her parents used to bring. The pain had numbed to a dull ache; it never quite left, but she could manage it. Wending her way home, Margaret hoped she would have a letter waiting for her, but was disappointed.

She would be disappointed for the rest of that week for she did not receive a reply until the beginning of the next. When she did spot the letter sat on the platter waiting to be found, Margaret was elated. She tucked it into her pocket and carried on to the dining room for lunch. Edith seemed to notice her preoccupation, and followed her from the room when they were finished.

Upon reaching her room, Edith excitedly jumped on the bed and demanded to know what had her so distracted.

"I think you have guessed already, Edith."

"I have indeed. Now come, open the letters."

Margaret obliged quite happily. This time she began with Mrs Thornton.

_Marlborough Mill_

_Miss Hale,_

_You need not thank me as often as you do. Truth be told, I quite enjoy our correspondence, no matter how you may think I have been forced into this. I do not often get the chance to speak to sensible young ladies, and I look forward to your replies._

_You must look at this time in your life as a transitionary period. You will not always be at your aunt's, and though it may not be perfectly clear now, your future is waiting for you. No matter what, you will always meet it when you should. Do not fret your life away wishing to be elsewhere, but do not worry about knowing you will eventually move on._

_My daughter is planning a trip down to London in the near future. She has asked for your advice on the most fashionable shops. I had hoped that she would attempt to visit the places she cannot here – such as the museums and galleries- but I think it unlikely that she will bother. I imagine she will attend some music evenings when she can, but that will be the limit of her exposure to culture._

_My son has been rather more involved in the mill this than he normally is. His dedication makes me extremely proud, much as I wish he could be at the house more. The strike affected us more than the other mills, but we shall rally as we always do._

_Do you find that you are happier now? Your letters seem far less despondent. I hope it is the case, for I do not believe young people should have to suffer as much as I have seen them do in my life. A little difficulty in life builds character, but it is not worth the risk of stripping away everything that makes a person who they are. I hope these events have not changed you completely._

_I look forward to hearing from you again._

_Kind regards,_

_Hannah Thornton_

Margaret was almost astounded. While she would never accuse Mrs Thornton of insincerity, she had honestly thought she only kept up the correspondence to appease her son. She was pleased to know that she could consider Mrs Thornton a friend. With a smile she picked up her second letter.

_Miss Hale,_

_I admit I was surprised to read your letter and find that you feared I would think you impertinent or asking questions. Given our experience, I rather thought you enjoyed questioning my decisions, but perhaps I have assumed you enjoyed our debates as much as I did._

_While I would normally immediately agree to any request you make, I am going to keep my snapped belt to myself a little longer. I think, between the two of us, we can find enough to speak of without resorting to that particular story._

_The looms are quite easy to understand once you have been shown them. I have enough space between each machine to navigate properly. They are dangerous enough as is, we do not need the added risk of falls. The looms only have one process, and they take several people to man them properly. It is most likely best to simply watch the men working, than have me attempt to explain. To be more succinct, the looms are easy to use and we space them adequately._

_I have indeed seen Higgins and Mary recently. Higgins continues to attempt to rile me up whenever he can, but I have become wise to his tricks and simply send him on his way. Did you know that knew about your brother? I must admit to a fair amount of shock when I found that out! He knew it as well, for he was unbearably smug about the whole thing. But I must commend him for his discretion. He obviously cares deeply for your family, as does his daughter. The only time she have spoken in my presence is to ask after you._

_I believe she does a great deal to care for the Boucher children. Like yourself, I would struggle to care for so many young children alone. I do not think I could even have managed if I was alone with only Fanny to care for. But they all seem to love her a great deal._

_Young Tommy Boucher seems determined to become a scholar. I have never seen him without a book in his hands. I have half a mind to give him a loom manual to see how he takes to it! He had run out of tales the last time I saw him, and had resorted to reading an old union pamphlet. He will become quite the revolutionary if he is actually absorbing anything he is reading!_

_Your nephew sounds like a delight. Is he a good mannered boy? I have known bad tempered children and pitied the nurses forced to care for them. I do think you might be right about Mothers and Sons though. In my experience there is a different bond between a man and his mother. Of course it depends on the woman in question as to the amount of mischief a boy is allowed to make, but I think even the strictest lady will allow her son more room for trouble than she might a daughter. My mother was not particularly strict in my youth. She enjoyed keeping me entertained and always ensured I had a willing playmate. It was only later when she was forced to become so serious. My father's death changed her. Not in fundamentals, but rather in how she expresses herself. I think she only wants for some young company to remember how she was._

_At the risk of upsetting you, I have indeed forgotten aspects of my father's face. I have a faded impression of him in my mind, but no clear detail. I obviously remember him as he was, the way he spoke, his great knowledge, his ability to make my mother laugh. I will never forget those parts if his personality that I loved the most. His face may fade away but the memory of him will always be with me._

_I can only accept your offer to forgive and forget gladly. I would indeed shake on it if you were here and I am grateful you have no forgotten our Northern ways yet. But I am happy to put it behind us and move on._

_Have you recovered your spirits? I know when my father died it took me a very long time to feel steady again. Even my mother's presence was not enough to stop my emotions swinging wildly from one extreme to another. I fear I was very angry for a long time after his death, and it took me years to finally forgive him._

_Despite the circumstances of his death, and my youthful inability to process it, I still found myself missing him. I cannot imagine how you found cheer so quickly. I feared you would be very upset for quite an extended mourning. Your fortitude is admirable. I am sure I cannot understand how much you miss your father. I miss him, and he was merely a friend. He had a way of making you care greatly for him._

_I find I occasionally tell myself to remember to question Mr Hale about some matter or other, before realising he is no longer with us. I should have liked to attend his funeral. He deserved to have his friends in attendance, so I will not begrudge his Oxford brethren their chance for saying goodbye, but it will always wish to have been there._

_Please do forgive me if I have upset you, speaking this way about your father. I know you had some struggles at first with your family that are now resolved, but if you ever wish to speak of him, I will always want to hear._

_Thank you for your reply, Miss Hale._

_John Thornton_

Stunned at such an open recounting of his struggles, Margaret spent a moment attempting to control her thoughts and did not make it immediately obvious to Edith that she had finished reading. At no point had she had any expectations of Mr Thornton's reply, but this blew away any thought she may have inadvertently had. She was gratified by his honesty and again wished to be in Milton. She had a great deal to say to him and could not imagine trying to say it by letter.

Edith had noticed her distraction by this point and began to question her.

"Margaret? You look deep in thought, what has he written of?"

"My father. His father. He has written a great deal."

"Nothing about mills?" She sounded so hopeful, Margaret had to laugh.

"Oh there is still talk of the mill, but there is much more about other things."

"May I read it?"

Margaret hesitated, but let Edith take the letter. It would be far worse to hide it from her, for then she would allow her imagination free reign, and Margaret would end up the recipient of the most flowery love letter ever written.

She watched with trepidation as Edith began to read. It was impossible to relax when Edith frowned and looked away in thought. When she looked back, Margaret started to think it was a mistake to tell Edith about these letters after all.

"It is a very nice letter."

"He has always been far too kind to me."

Edith raised an eyebrow but continued. "It would seem he cares a great deal for your feelings. He is very solicitous."

"I am sure he merely means to be polite."

"Oh Margaret!" Edith looked exasperated. "How can you possibly read this and not believe he cares for you?"

"I have told you why he cannot!"

"Well perhaps you should tell him that, for he is not acting like someone who dislikes you."

"I do not think he dislikes me. I just do not see that him not disliking me equals to more than friendship."

"It equates to more than friendship when a man is deeply in love with you."

Margaret turned away, trying to calm herself. She would not get angry at Edith for this. She must not.

"Margaret, even you are not this oblivious."

"I admit to being blind in the past, but blindness is not my issue this time."

"No, you issue this time is that you are being deliberately obtuse."

"Edith!"

"Admit it Margaret! At least to yourself. Admit that he cares for you as more than a friend."

"Why? You cannot pretend ignorance forever."

"I am not pretending ignorance."

"Well you are pretending at something. That man clearly cares for you, yet you would throw it back in his face!"

Edith's words forced her to consider when she had actually done that. At the time she was sorry for it but did not regret it. Now, the thought of their argument saddened her and Edith telling her she was doing it again upset her greatly. She turned away, unable to see Edith's accusing expression.

"Margaret, you cannot continue to deny there is nothing between you."

Margaret's expression turned mulish. "We are just friends."

Edith scoffed.

"There is nothing more than that."

"You would not risk so much for a mere friend."

Margaret hesitated. "It is not so much of a risk."

"You are risking your reputation. Yours and his. You would not do this for Henry."

"That is different."

"It is not. Before all this mess you and Henry were close. You have never defied society to write to him."

"I did not feel the need."

"You have no need to write to Mr Thornton. You could easily find what you want to know from a book. Or his mother. And he did not even write about his mill! You have no excuse."

Margaret could hear her blood rushing through her ears. She felt trapped, as if the wall were closing in on her, and her was breathing hard.

Edith seemed to take pity on her, for she softened slightly.

"You at least have to admit that you treat Mr Thornton differently from other men of your acquaintance."

"I do not see that I do." Margaret had become defensive drawing herself away from Edith as much as she could.

"That is silly, Margaret. You have admitted yourself that you did not treat Henry the same way, even when you were good friends."

Margaret was panicking. She did not want to contemplate what Edith was trying to say. It would open a door she may not be able to close.

"Margaret please." Edith's voice was quiet. "You cannot keep living in denial. It will not make either of you happy."

"What you want cannot happen."

They were both silent.

"The stop writing to him."

Margaret's eyes widened in shock, while Edith's face was hard.

"You cannot keep writing to him. It will only end in misery one way or another. Cut contact now."

"No." Margaret was firm. She would not give up one of her only sources of true happiness. She could not.

"You need to decide what you want, Margaret. You are only encouraging him."

"I am not."

"You know if Henry received a letter that engendered a response like this he would consider you engaged already."

"Mr Thornton is not Henry."

"What is the difference! You are writing to a man who is not family! You cannot honestly say that there is a difference if you claim only a friendship with him. Why do you not write to Henry? He after all, is family. Why is Henry so-"

"Because I do not love Henry!"

Both pairs of eyes widened. Margaret could not believe she had just shouted a confession of love in anger at her cousin. She was still breathing heavily, but her eyes were watering, and she would feel herself dissolving into sobs. She buried her face in her hands, unsurprised when she felt Edith pulling her to the bed to sit with her.

Eventually her tears ceased. Edith remained quiet, seemingly giving her time to control herself. But now she had said it out loud, she could not rid herself of the realisation of what she felt.

"I love him, Edith" She whispered into her hands.

Edith made a sympathetic noise. "I know you do, Margaret. You were just refusing to see it."

Margaret nodded. "I realise that now. But…oh Edith! What if he does not care for mre? I long for more than his good opinion. I cannot bear the thought of loving him and him turning elsewhere."

"I know you still insist he cannot care for you, but truly Margaret, he is not acting as a man who sees you as a friend. A friend would be content with news through his mother. From the beginning he has put every effort into gaining intelligence of you. And now he has ignored the rules of society just to speak with you. He would not do this if he had no hopes in that direction."

"I am so conflicted. I want to believe you, but I do not see how it will ever come to anything. I can hardly go calling on him."

"That is true but remember the effort he had already put forward. I think if he knows you return his feelings he will not stop until he finds a way to reunite with you."

"Do you really think so?" Margaret knew she sounded pathetically in need of reassurance but could not help it.

"Yes. I think this is a man who would do anything for you."

Margaret blinked and looked away. Would he do anything for her? After everything she had done to him, could he truly still love her? It was a heady feeling, the thought that he might love her still.

"What are you thinking?"

"Honestly? I am thinking how lucky a girl would be to be loved by Mr Thornton."

Edith giggled. "I have never really seen him. Tell me again, is he handsome?"

"I do not know if most would look at him and think him particularly handsome, but he is certainly not bad looking. He has a stern aspect. But his smile! He has a wonderful smile, Edith. It changes him completely."

She felt Edith sigh. "And does he smile often?"

"It is not his most common expression, but I have seen him smile often enough. I think I have probably seen him smile more than most, for he greatly enjoyed his discussions with my father."

"Has he smiled at you specifically?"

"Before I left for London. He was so very gently with me, Edith, I truly did not deserve it then, for he did not know about Frederick. There have been other occasions, but that one sticks in my mind."

"What else do you love about him?"

Now that she had started, she found it hard to stop. "I think I admire his presence of mind. He is always so sure of himself, he never seems to struggle doing what needs to be done. He is so very different from my parents in that respect. They would push away any difficult decisions and often leave me to deal with whatever issue they were ignoring."

"You know he would care for you properly then."

"Yes. I would not fear problems creeping between us. I think we are both willing to act when required."

"You would have a steadier marriage than most, I think. Would you be that wonderful couple that are always in perfect accord?"

"Heavens no!" She laughed. "I think we disagree more often than not. It would seem he did not mind out debates, although I'm sure at the time I made him quite angry. But I think agreeing o everything on be a boring existence. Imagine being unable to discuss anything because you have nothing to say! I could not be happy like that."

Edith laughed. "I imagine you would not! He seems absolutely perfect for you Margaret! He has shown himself to be caring, he must be clever to run his business, and he is completely trustworthy. Those are very fine characteristics."

"He is a fine man."

"I rather like him, you know. Even though I never met him properly, everything he has done for you only endears him to me. He shall make a wonderful uncle to Sholto!"

The both started giggling. "I cannot believe you have jumped from complete strangers to beloved family member! But I agree. He would make a wonderful uncle to Sholto."

Margaret sigh wistfully. She was happy to think of what their lives would be like, but still could not see how they would ever begin this picturesque life she was concocting.

"Margaret you look lost again."

"I want this more than anything, Edith. I just do not see how I am ever going to get it."

"You can start by replying to that letter and not mentioning that blasted mill!"

"Edith!" Margaret was laughing. "I could no more separate him from the mill than I could stars from the night. It will always be a part of him."

"Oh, very well, I will stop complaining, only because you both seem to actually like talking about it. But you must make sure your letter is more personal than mere enquiry. Write as if you were already engaged."

"I do not think I could dare."

"The write as you would to me. Like you are writing to family. I think he would like that."

Margaret considered. It was not as bold as behaving like they were engaged, but it still implied a level of closeness she had with very few people.

"I would like to try that."

"Good. You must begin somewhere. I cannot imagine you simply confessing to him outright, but a few hints would not go amiss."

"I suppose he would not take the fact that I replied at all as evidence of my changed opinion, would he?"

"He might, but I think there is so much between you it might be better to be more open than you normally would. Many men would not make a second attempt after a rejection as fierce as the one you gave Mr Thornton."

"Oh dear. I had not thought how difficult it must be for him to try again. It must be awful for him to receive my letters and not know if my interest is for him or his mill. He will not know my feelings have changed so much!"

"I imagine he would have an inkling, but he may not act until he is certain. His risk did not pay out last time."

Margaret buried her face in her hands. "I have made this so very complicated."

"Do not think of it like that, Margaret! All this simply means when you finally win him you will both be certain it is what you want."

"I suppose. But I cannot be as sure as you are."

"I will be sure enough for the both of us. Now come, how will you reply? I think he may have been teasing you at the start of that letter, you know." Edith grinned wickedly at her "Perhaps a little flirting would not go amiss."

"Edith!" Margaret flushed. "You cannot be suggesting I attempt to flirt with him!"

"No, to be honest I find it very hard to imagine you flirting at all. I suppose I shall have to be content with looms and cotton instead of secret love letters."

They both laughed. Standing, Margaret made her way to her writing desk and pulled pen and paper closer. Before beginning to write however, she turned back to Edith somewhat perturbed.

"Truly though, how on earth am I meant to write to him knowing what I do?"

"He manages perfectly well."

Margaret blinked. She had considered at that.

"I suppose you are right. If he fells as you say he does, this must be infinitely more difficult for him."

"Exactly. But you do not need to pretend, Margaret. Just write how you normally would. Nothing had really changed."

"Yes, well perhaps you should merely tell him. That is what he did, did he not? Ask you to forget everything he had said?"

"I suppose you are correct."

"Of course I am correct. Now, write your letter and we can both look through it, if you wish it."

"Thank you, Edith."

"Not at all, Margaret."

With a smile, Margaret turned back to her paper. She took a few long moments to determine what she wanted to say, and then picked up her pen.

_Dear Mr Thornton…_

* * *

I know I said last time I wouldn't give myself a deadline because I would probably miss it, but this was far longer than I anticipated! Once again, your lovely comments keep me going! Thank you for all your kind words, and I promise to not take so long next time :)


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